


Life is Still Strange

by Life_is_Still_Strange



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Sequel, Unofficial Sequel, pricefield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 117,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Life_is_Still_Strange/pseuds/Life_is_Still_Strange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Novel in progress. A continuation following episode 5. A story about Max Caulfield coming to terms with the difficult choices she has had to make. Last week was one of the hardest ones in Max's life. Unfortunately this week might be just as hard to swallow. Luckily she has Chloe Price by her side. </p>
<p>Romance, Drama, Science Fiction, Horror, Mystery</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 1 - (First Edit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Novel in progress. A continuation following episode 5. A story about Max Caulfield coming to terms with the difficult choices she has had to make. Last week was one of the hardest ones in Max's life. Unfortunately this week might be just as hard to swallow. Luckily she has Chloe Price by her side.
> 
> Romance, Drama, Science Fiction, Horror, Mystery

Maxine Caulfield was staring at the ceiling. The shoddy queen sized mattress provided by the Seagate motel was far from perfect, but right now it was the most comfort she’d had in days. The rain outside had increased in intensity over the past ten minutes. The soothing patter of the rain droplets clapping against the rooftop had quietly become a dull roar. Max was enjoying the soft mattress beneath her. It was nice to sit on something comforting after being confined in Chloe’s rusty metal deathtrap all afternoon. Max took in a deep breath. She exhaled, using her diaphragm to empty her lungs.

Max sat up in the bed. She took in the décor of the cheap motel room. Max decided that cheap was the word that described it best. The room was sparse; it contained the bare minimum that a motel room should. There was an old box television, a queen sized mattress, an empty wooden dresser, and a golden colored lamp. The soft 40 watt bulb weakly lit the room. The walls of the room were a nauseating dark green color. The bottom half of the room was paneled with vertical wooden slats. It was apparent to Max that the Seagate had seen better days.

Max turned to the bathroom door. Steam was pouring from the open, brightly lit room. The sounds of running water were coming from the stark white threshold. Chloe Price was taking a shower.

Max stared at Chloe’s silhouette. Chloe’s figure was readily apparent. She was lathering herself. Max blushed at the image dancing on the shower curtain. Max felt guilty, partially for spying on her friend, but more so the guilt stemmed from her actions earlier in the day.

It was Friday, October 11th, sometime after 10:00 p.m. It had been the most trying day of Max’s life.

Max pulled herself to the end of the bed. She stood up, turning to the dresser. She began rummaging through a large black suitcase which was sitting on the top of the shoddy piece of furniture. Chloe had purchased the container at a gas station that afternoon.

Max paused as she caught her own reflection in the mirror.

Max’s dark blue eyes scanned the mirror image. She examined the face closely, as if looking at someone for the first time. Her brown chin length hair, usually neatly brushed, was matted from the rain.  Slender faced, her cheek bones guided the eye down to a smooth but defined chin. Max had a small, petite nose. Freckles were present on her face. It was a splash of freckles, as if a painter had flicked them onto her smooth white skin with a paint brush. The thought amused her.

Max turned her body, examining her figure. She was thin, but healthy. Her frame was small, and so were her features. Max had always felt self-conscious about her modest chest. She wondered what Chloe would think of her body. It wasn’t a thought Max had time to entertain yet. Would Chloe Price find her attractive? The thought made Max feel uncomfortable.

Max became still, continuing to stare into the mirror. Her eyes narrowed accusatorily at the image of herself. “Maybe Chloe Price would prefer someone who hadn’t killed her parents.” It was a depressing thought. Max had been trying not to think that way all afternoon, but the dark reality of the week’s events had been hounding her all afternoon while riding in Chloe’s 1990 Chevrolet C/K. The two girls had barely said a word to one another.

“You’re not a good person”, Max whispered.

Max averted her eyes from the mirror. She could no longer look at the image of herself. Max lied back down onto the bed. The guilt washed over her, she felt like she might drown in it. She let the tears come again.

 

 

\------------------------------

Max was covered in a cold sweat. She sat upright in the queen-sized mattress. A blood-curdling scream was coming from outside the window. The scream was sharp, inhuman, and piercing. Max turned to survey her surroundings. There was steam lazily drifting out of the bathroom. Chloe seemed to still be in the shower. Max let out a small sigh of relief. She made her way to the window.

Max reached the glass in time to see the carcass of a rabbit being flown into the forest. A large brown owl had found some prey . The night sky was clear and the moon was full. The shadow of the silent predator was contrasted perfectly against the bright white moon. Max wished that she had her camera to capture the image.

The silence of the moment was broken by a soft metallic click. Max turned, trying to identify the source of the interloping noise. It had been the quiet closing of the bathroom door. Max decided that Chloe was being a ‘shower hog’. The noise was a gentle reminder that showers do indeed exist. Max began rummaging through the black suitcase seated on the dresser.

                There were two t-shirts. One was black with a yellow crossing sign on the front that showed the distinct outline of the legendary monster _Sasquatch_. Max smiled. The next shirt was from a guided tour company. A lighthouse was pictured on the center of the shirt. Max’s smile faded. Lighthouses would forever hold a dark place in her heart.

Max had a sudden realization. The rain had stopped. She could still hear water gushing from the showerhead. She adjusted her gaze to the bathroom door.

 “Chloe?” Max called out.

The distant hum of the shower was the only response. Steam was still pumping out from underneath the white bathroom door. Somehow it seemed menacing, as if punching at the air. The resounding silence made goose bumps run down Max’s spine.

The warmly glowing 40 watt bulb, keening softly in the old tarnished golden lamp, blinked three times. It was extinguished by the familiar ‘tink’ noise that  accompanies the breaking of a filament. Max was thrust into darkness.

A singular beacon of light now shined in the pitch black of the motel room: the bathroom door. The steam now resembled a fog. It was illuminated by the light creeping from the edges and bottom of the well-lit portal.

The adrenaline Max wasn’t conscious she was waiting for forced her into action. She strode across the room with purpose. Maxine Caulfield has seen Chloe Price die three times this week. Tonight would not be the fourth.

Max reached the bathroom door, passing through the eerie steam. The bathroom door was slathered in condensation. Max reached out her hand. She squeezed the soggy, diamond shaped translucent handle and turned. The door gave way.

The bathroom was blinding at first. White walls, tile, and ceiling added to the brilliance of the room. There was a porcelain sink and toilet. Set into the wall sat the bathtub. Curtain drawn, the distinctive outline of Chloe Price was being expressed sharply by a light fixture above the tub. Chloe was lathering herself.

A man was standing in the center of the small room. He was taller than Max by half a foot. His overly long denim jeans were rolled up to fit neatly with his stylish leather men’s shoes. A white dress shirt was tucked squarely into the denim, secured by a fine black belt with a silver buckle. A fine dark grey suit jacket completed the outfit. The first few buttons of the shirt were loose, revealing that he was quite physically fit. The man’s face was covered with a purposefully sloppy goatee which matched the man’s dark brown hair in both style and form. His eyes were dark, brown, and sharp. They gave a strong impression of intelligence, especially behind the man’s thick, hip glasses. An old Polaroid camera dangled from his neck. At last, he held a large knife at his side. Stainless steel, the blade shined dangerously in the fluorescent atmosphere of the room. His name was Mark Jefferson.

“Hello Max.”, Jefferson said, “It is so good to see you again. I’m glad you have decided to return to class.” Jefferson’s mouth turned downward into an exaggerated pout, “You don’t seem excited to see me though.”

Max’s eyes widened in horror. Mark Jefferson was here for revenge. Max’s mind began racing. How did he survive the storm? Did he kill Chloe’s stepfather to escape?

Max’s mind turned to the beautiful girl in the tub. Chloe seemed oblivious to the danger. Max screamed out Chloe’s name. The vulnerable showering girl showed no response.

“Hush,” Jefferson said. A stern look of disapproval crossed his face, “You will ruin our chance for this shot. You keep forgetting my number one rule of photography, always take the shot.” Jefferson nodded and raised his forefinger a single time, reinforcing the importance of his statement.

Max called out to Chloe again. Why could Chloe not hear her?  _Why does Chloe never listen?_

Max  scanned the room, looking for a way out of the situation. Only the basic toiletries of a cheap motel were available.  Chloe’s clothes lay on the floor, a small pile of faux-punk accessories. Max considered the mirror above the sink. Jefferson was closer to it than she was. Her eyes finally settled on Jefferson’s blade, it was her only choice.

Max knew that she had come too far now.  Chloe had come too far now. Chloe Price would not die in this bathroom, or any bathroom. Not on Max’s watch. Resolute to rewind time again if she must, damned be the consequences, Max charged at Mark Jefferson, her eyes were fixed on the dark, handsome man’s blade.

Jefferson wound back his arm. Somehow the man had anticipated the tenacious girl’s charge; he slammed Max against the porcelain sink. Max crumpled to the ground, pain shooting down her spine. Max knew  what she must do. She reached out her arm. She was reaching out, seeking to touch time itself, to bend it to her will, to manipulate it like phantasmal clay. It was something she had become accustomed to, Max Caulfield was a human time machine.

_Max Caulfield felt nothing._

Max’s arms fell limply to her side. All she could do was stare at Jefferson. It was a blank, sad stare. Max tried to move her legs but it was futile. Her back had been broken by the impact with the sink. There was nothing she could do.

                Mark Jefferson kneeled next to Max. He placed the camera around her neck. He brushed the girl’s hair behind her ear. It was a strangely comforting gesture.

                Jefferson spoke, His voice carrying the sad tones of regret and pity, “You tried your best. Sometimes things just are not meant to be, no matter how hard you try.”

                Tears had begun running down Max’s face.

                Max tried a final time to reach out to Chloe, “Chloe. Please. I’ll do anything.” The words were quiet, begging in nature, a prayer to the girl in the shower.

                The shadow of Chloe Price came to a halt for a brief moment. Max watched in despair. Chloe began to lather up her short, blue-dyed hair.

                “Chloe knows that Max. All three of us know how far you are willing to go.” Jefferson said. He patted Max on the head, “I’m sorry she has to die. All of this is about you. I’ve seen your innocence, your fear, and your rage, but there is so much more I need to see before I can be satisfied.”

                Jefferson ripped the shower curtain back. It was indeed Chloe Price in the shower, exposed and vulnerable. Piercing shrieks of violins exploded from the walls. Every tile in the bathroom had become a small speaker, hundreds of tiny white speakers. The noise was deafening, louder than anything Max had ever experienced. Mark Jefferson raised his right arm into the air and brought the sharp blade down into Chloe’s chest. Chloe let out a blood curdling, terror-fueled scream.

 Jefferson was relentless; he stabbed at Chloe over and over, his arm pumping the blade towards her repeatedly. The knife connected a second time. Chloe’s screams had become that of the rabbit’s –inhuman and disturbing.

Jefferson was quick and focused with his attack. Chloe raised her arms, trying to block the blade. The water was in her eyes, making the task impossible. Chloe suffered a third wound to the stomach; the blood erupted from her torso.

 Max tried to close her eyes in desperation. She could no longer stomach the gruesome scene. Her eyelids would not respond. Max clamped her hands over her ears. She was trying to drown out the shrieking violins. her fingernails begun to dig her scalp.

Jefferson brought the blade down three more times into Chloe’s torso. Chloe could not last. She spun in the tub, exposing her back to her attacker. Jefferson inserted the blade one final time into Chloe’s spine.

 The blue-haired girl collapsed. Her hand pressed against the shower wall.

The sickening red blood was running down the walls. It was carried by the running water into the tub, riveting, twisting and vortexing down the drain.

 Max was shrieking. Max could do nothing but shriek.

                Jefferson was saying something, “MAX WAKE UP.”

                It was Chloe Price’s voice. “MAX PLEASE WAKE UP.”

 

\----------------------------------

 

Chloe Elizabeth Price was smoking.  She had been smoking and crying all morning. She was sitting in an old wooden chair, the kind you would find at a kitchen table. Chloe had her legs crossed, propped up in the window. The cool breeze was blowing against the bottoms of her feet.

It was the Seagate Motel. A run down establishment only a few hours’ drive from Arcadia bay Oregon. Chloe had rented the room the previous night.

Chloe’s phone was sitting quietly in her lap. Chloe cared about exactly two people left in the world. The first was Maxine Caulfield. Chloe turned her head to look at Max. Max was tucked into the old, warm bedding provided by the Seagate. Chloe wanted to let the girl rest. The previous days had been daunting. It was a shock that both of them had survived the events intact.

The second person Chloe still cared for was David Madsen, her stepfather. The man had been missing since the day of the storm. Chloe checked her phone again. There was no response.

“Fuck it.”, Chloe said. She could not sit on her anxiety any longer.

Chloe stood up from her seat by the window. She tucked her cheap phone into the back pocket of her torn punk jeans. She smashed her cigarette into the ashtray on the dresser. Chloe looked at herself in the dresser mirror.

Chloe was tall. She had light blue eyes. When she was younger, friends and family would always remark that she would make an excellent model. Her jaw line was perfectly curved yet strong. Her blue dyed hair fell straight down on either side of her head, stopping around her ears, which were left exposed. Chloe loved having her ears show. She was wearing the Sasquatch crossing shirt. Chloe smiled.

                Chloe turned to the bed. Max’s eyes were dark. Chloe could see small tracks where the sleeping girl’s tears had dried. Max had sacrificed a small town for Chloe, Chloe’s mother included. Chloe pushed the thought of Joyce Price out of her mind. ‘We’ll deal with that shit later.’ Chloe had become an expert at dealing with tragedy and loss.

“We’re going to be okay Max,” Chloe whispered, knowing she would never leave the girl.

                Chloe turned from the bed to the small black suitcase sitting by the dresser. She pulled on a pair of socks. She then secured her feet into a long black pair of boots by the door. Chloe stepped out of the motel room. She was sure to close the door quietly as to not disturb her sleeping friend. The thought came to her, ‘No, we’re way more than friends at this point.’ The thought was exciting, but years of living a disappointing life kept Chloe from fully trusting the emotion.

                The small motel courtyard looked much different in the mid-morning sunlight. Chloe began walking towards the Seagate’s main office. It was unseasonably warm for the second week of October. Her rusty truck sat there patiently. ‘THE BEAST LIVES,’ she thought, smiling at the ancient Chevy.

                The parking lot was barren save for a few lonely vehicles. There was a red sedan and a brown mini-van. Chloe wondered if either of the vehicles had come from Arcadia Bay. Could these be refugee who had also escaped the storm? She decided that it didn’t matter either way.

                Reaching her destination, Chloe pulled the office door open and crossed into the small building. Chloe immediately recognized Sherman. He was the manager of the Seagate. The man was old and weathered, his white hair tucked beneath an old Seahawks baseball cap. Sherman’s gaze was locked onto a small television sitting at the counter. Chloe walked up to the counter. She wanted to see the television.

                “It looks like the NOAA is going to have a press conference.” Sherman said, “Seems like the news has been speculating that this wasn’t a normal storm.”

                Chloe knew that the storm had not been a natural phenomenon. A tinge of unease spread across her face.

                “I came from Arcadia,” Chloe said.

                Sherman’s face was graven, “How bad was it?” Sherman knew that the question might upset the girl, but he needed to know the answer.

                Chloe thought about the question. She wished that she didn’t have to.

Chloe couldn’t help but recall  _The Two-Whales_  diner. It had been a tiny building with only a handful of seats. Joyce Price had been a waitress and cook. A strong portion of Chloe’s childhood had been spent in the diner – a second home. The quaint establishment had been destroyed by the tornado. All Chloe could picture was the wreckage. She would never forget the image of Joyce Price, covered in blood and riddled with shrapnel.

“It was bad,” Chloe said. She didn’t want to say more.

Sherman felt as though he could see the girl’s pain. It was the way she had paused. Her eyes had failed to meet his own. Had he seen tears starting to form?

Sherman’s voice was remorseful. “I’m sorry for prying,” Sherman said, “My brother was from Arcadia. I haven’t been able to contact him yet.”

A depressing thought crossed Chloe’s mind: This man’s brother might have died for her.

“What’s his name?” Chloe asked.

“James,” Sherman said, “James Gates. His friends knew him as Jimmy.”

Chloe thought on the name for a moment. It wasn’t a name she had recalled hearing before, but she could not place it. Having spent her entire life in Arcadia Bay, Chloe felt guilty that she knew so few people there.

“I’m Sherman by the way,” Sherman said. Chloe’s sincerity had touched the man. It seemed like she really cared. He could also see from her expression that something terrible had happened to her.

 Chloe shook the man’s hand. There was comfort in the firm handshake.

“Chloe,” she said, “I’m afraid I’ve never met your brother.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sherman said, “Jim’s a tough one. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

Chloe’s stepfather came to mind. David Madsen was a tough one. Chloe prayed that he too would turn up.

“So then,” Sherman said, “What can I do for you?”

Chloe remembered the reason she had come to the office, “Do you have any food?”

Sherman did have food in the small office. There was an assortment of pre-packaged breakfast food on a small shelf.  Chloe decided on a box of pop-tarts, chips, and two large bottles of water. Chloe tried to pay for the food but Sherman insisted that it was on the house.

“You can stay an extra night too if you want.” Sherman said.

Chloe smiled at the older man’s sweet gesture. The first person she had met since leaving Arcadia had been wonderful.

“It’s okay,” Chloe said, “I think we need to get further away from Arcadia. We’re headed for Seattle.”

Sherman gave Chloe a polite nod as she left the small office.

Chloe knew that she should check the internet. What had the rest of the world discovered about the storm? Maybe there was information online about the incident.  Food in hand, she began making her way towards the room where Max was asleep.

Chloe heard shrieking coming from the distance. She stopped for a moment, confused to where the alarming noise was coming from.

                “CHLOE PLEASE, I’LL DO ANYTHING”

                “Max”, Chloe yelped.

                Chloe sprinted to the room marked “1”. She retrieved the key from her pocket and jammed it into the lock. Chloe slammed the door open. What she saw terrified her.

                Maxine Caulfield was in bed. Her legs were thrashing, kicking the coverings off of herself. Her arms were compressed around her ears; her fingernails had begun digging into her scalp. Blood was pouring from the lacerations.

                Chloe paused for only a few seconds. She knew what she must do. She darted across the room. Chloe grabbed at Max’s hands, pulling them down, away from the Max’s scalp. Max once again began screaming. Max was trying to force her arms back up to cover her ears. Chloe hugged the smaller girl with all of her strength, trying to keep Max from hurting herself.

                “MAX WAKE UP”, Chloe cried out. She had no idea what to do, “MAX PLEASE WAKE UP.”

                Chloe felt Max’s body go limp in her arms. Max’s eyes opened, soaked with tears.

                “Oh, Chloe” Max breathed. The mental anguish of the nightmare had been too much. Relief poured over Max as she looked up at her friend. Satisfied that Chloe was safe Max let herself pass out.

                Chloe laid her friend down upon the pillow.

                Chloe took a deep breath, finally able to process what had happened. Tears began running down her face.  Chloe stared at Max, examining the pretty, freckled face of her companion. Max had always been so sweet and innocent. Chloe knew Max deserved none of this. Chloe felt her stomach tighten under the mixed emotions of anxiety and love.

Chloe wiped the tears from her eyes. She carried a look of strong determination.

“This time I will be the one saving you.”

 

 

 

\-----------------------------------

 “What the hell happened to her?” Sherman asked.  The older man had come running at the sound of Max’s screams. He placed Chloe’s plastic bag of food on the dresser.

Chloe was sitting in the old wooden chair. She held Max’s hand in her own. She was afraid to move too far away, afraid that Max would try and hurt herself a second time. Max had been unconscious for the last five minutes.

                “She lost so much in Arcadia.” Chloe responded. Her gaze was fixed on Max. Chloe wiped max’s forehead with a small damp hand towel.

Sherman leaned over the bed, looking at where Max had gouged herself, “Doesn’t look like she hurt herself too bad. Probably don’t need stitches, just make sure it doesn’t get infected, honestly.”

                “Thank you again Sherman.” Chloe said.

                Chloe sprung up from the edge of the bed. She hugged the older man. Sherman was surprised at how tight the tall girl squeezed him.

                “Listen if you need anything else you let me know, you are more than welcome to stay here an extra night okay?” he said, “I left your food here on the dresser; I need to get back up front.”

                Sherman left the room. He was sure that the crisis was over. It would be a long time before he forgot about the tattooed, blue-haired punk girl and her unconscious friend.

                Chloe crawled into the bed next to Max. She laid her palm on Max’s shoulder.

                “Max, wake up,” she said. Chloe shook her friend gingerly “Come back to me Max.”

 

                Max’s eyes slipped open.

Max saw Chloe hovering over her. Her head was searing in pain. She glided her hand up to her temples. There were small divots where she had scratched herself. Max remembered the nightmare in detail. She knew that she’d hurt herself.

                “I had the crappiest dream ever.” Max said. She sat up in bed.

                “Don’t get up Max,” Chloe said. She rose from the chair putting her hand on Max’s shoulder, trying to keep Max from rising.

                Max could see that Chloe was nervous, afraid that Max would hurt herself again. Max allayed Chloe’s fears.

                “I’m okay Chloe. It’s over,” Max said, “I won’t hurt myself again.”

 Max patted the bed, motioning for the large girl to lie beside her. Chloe flipped off her boots and crawled into the bed. The two girls lay facing one another. Chloe took Max’s hands into her own, squeezing them for reassurance.

                “You scared the shit out of me dude,” Chloe said.

                “It was so real Chloe,” Max said, “Jefferson was here and he had you trapped in the bathroom. He went full psycho on you in the shower, you know, like the movie; he had a big ass knife. I tried to stop him but I couldn’t. I tried to rewind time but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do shit.” Max had become visibly upset. “All I could do is watch you die.”  She turned away Chloe, facing the other direction, afraid of the incoming intimacy. “Losing you has become my biggest fear. I ruined time and space just so I didn’t have to lose you. Chloe I don’t want to even imagine it.”

Max felt Chloe’s long arm move beneath her as the larger girl hugged her tightly from behind. Max gave in, letting herself become the small spoon.

“Listen to me Max,” Chloe said. Her voice was strong. She needed Max to understand.

Max’s heart picked up its pace as Chloe’s embrace enveloped her.

Chloe continued, “I told you I’m never leaving you. You don’t have to be afraid when you fall asleep. I will always be there in the morning Max. I want you to remember that the next time you’re stuck in a nightmare.”

Max spun in the large girl’s arms. They were facing each other, very close now. Max stared into the blue, caring, and warm eyes of her companion. Max knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to kiss Chloe, to tell her that she too would never leave, to tell Chloe that she was in love with her. Not a simple bond of friendship but something much greater.

“Chloe, I….” Max started, but she could not finish the phrase. Maybe if she’d had more adrenaline she could have said the words. ‘I love you’ was something she had told Chloe countless times when they were children.

Max felt the pause growing awkward. “Chloe, I… am so fucked up.”

“I’m fucked up too Max. We might be fucked up, but at least we’re together.” Chloe said.

“So fucked up”, Max agreed. She grinned.

                “No more of this crying shit,” Chloe said. She released the small girl and sat up. “I got pop-tarts.”

                “Holy shit pop-tarts?” Max couldn’t contain her joy at the thought of the dumb breakfast food.

                “Pop-tarts, water, and sour cream chips,” Chloe said, “I’m pretty much the ultimate provider.”

                Chloe hopped out of the bed and snapped up the bag of food. She flourished a single time before depositing a single package of pop-tarts into Max’s lap with a large bottle of water.

                “This is it Max, these pop-tarts are the start of our new life.”  Chloe said, “Don’t say I never got you anything.”

                “You are such a dork Chloe oh my god.” Max’s grin was uncontrollable.

                Chloe crossed the room and turned the television on. “The hotel manager said that there was going to show a press conference about the storm. The NOAA has an announcement about the storm, you know, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.”

                “Sounds like it could be useful.” Max said. She had something else on her mind.

 “Chloe could you hand me my phone?” Max asked, pointing to her messenger bag resting next to the television stand. “I’m going to give my mother a call.”

                Max regretted her choice in words. Chloe didn’t say anything but Max could see the word ‘Mother’ bring a tinge of pain to the girl’s face.

Chloe retrieved the phone from the bag. She tossed the phone to Max who was now eating the pop-tarts.

                “I’ve been waiting for David’s call all morning,” Chloe said, retrieving her own phone from her back pocket. “I am going to check social media.” Chloe leaned back in the old wooden chair. She propped her feet up on the television stand and began to thumb through her phone.

                Max was now sitting cross-legged in bed. She had indeed received several calls and texts over the night. She felt guilty for not reaching out the night before, but sleep had taken her quite quickly.

                Vanessa Caulfield, Max’s Mother, had texted: “Max please call immediately. There is a bad storm heading your way.” A few hours later: “Max please tell me you are safe. Your dad and I are worried sick. Please call as soon as you are safe. Please be okay.”

                Ryan Caulfield, Max’s Father, had texted: “Call your mother Max. The weather is looking pretty nasty down there.” A second text: “Give me a location and I will drive down there and get you. I love you so much.”

                Max dialed the phone number to her parents Seattle home. The phone rang only a few times before being picked up.

                “Maxine?” Vanessa Caulfield’s voice came through the phone. Vanessa was the only person in the world allowed to call Max by her full name. Max decided she would stay strong in this conversation.

                “Mom it’s me,” Max said, “I’m okay.”

                “Max do you need help? Where are you at?” Vanessa continued, “Your father is on his way now. He left this morning as soon as we saw the tornado on the news.”

                Max said, “Mom I’m okay, I escaped the storm. I’m not hurt. I am with a friend; you should remember her, Chloe Price.”

                Chloe had turned to face the phone conversation. She was staring at Max. Vanessa and Ryan Caulfield had always been kind to her. She hadn’t realized it until this moment, but it wasn’t only Max she had missed for all those years. She had lost three friends when the Caulfield’s left Arcadia Bay.

                “Mom I’m coming home. Tell dad to turn around on the highway. Chloe is bringing me home.” Max stared directly at Chloe. “Mom Chloe lost everything; she is going to stay with us.”

                “What about Joyce?” Vanessa asked. Vanessa didn’t know how difficult the question would be to answer.

                Max paused, staring at Chloe, who was listening with intent.

Max’s eyes started to wet as she answered her mother’s question. “Joyce is gone.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Max is Chloe with you right now?” Vanessa asked.

“Yes” Max answered. She was unsure what her mother intended.

“Could you please hand the phone to her?” Vanessa asked.

Max scooted to the edge of the bed and placed her hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “She wants to speak to you.”

Chloe took the phone, “Hello?” She was surprised that Vanessa would want to speak to her.

“Chloe Price?” Vanessa asked. “This is Vanessa Caulfield.”

“Yeah, this is Chloe.” Chloe responded.

 “Chloe I’m so sorry to hear about Joyce,” Vanessa continued, “I need you to listen to me very carefully now.” Vanessa’s voice was empathetic but also stern and commanding.

Chloe was listening with her full attention.

Vanessa spoke, “Ryan and I were very close to your parents. I know in my heart that if anything would have happened to us that both Joyce  _and_ William would have taken care of Maxine. I want you to know that you will always be welcome here in our home. We will take care of everything when you get here.”

Chloe’s eyes were filled with tears.

“Chloe?” Vanessa asked, unsure if anyone was still on the line.

Chloe had to choke her answer out through her tears, “I’m still here. I’m listening Vanessa”

“Bring my daughter back to me,” Vanessa said.

                “I will. I promise.” Chloe said, handing the phone back to Max.

Max had begun shedding tears when Chloe did, caught in the emotions.

                “Mom?” Max asked.

                “Listen Maxine, you and Chloe get back here in one piece. If Chloe can’t drive let me know, I will send Ryan, or even a damn taxi if I have to,” Vanessa said, “Chloe can stay with us. The Prices were good people.  I am going to call your father. He only left maybe an hour ago; I can catch him before he gets too far. Don’t worry about anything except getting home. I will call FEMA to confirm that both you and Chloe are alive and safe. Keep your phone on and call me if anything happens. Maxine I love you so much.”

                “I love you too, mom, tell dad I love him,” Max’s tears were now partially from relief, “We will head out this afternoon after we get our shit together over here. Goodbye Mom.” Max ended the conversation with Vanessa.

                Max knew that most of the tears had been from deep relief. She placed the phone on the dresser and handed a bottle of water to Chloe. Chloe took the bottle as she was wiping away the last of her own tears.

                “Honestly Chloe,” Max said, “This crying shit is probably going to be with us for a while.”

                Chloe nodded her head in agreement, “Thousands of dollars in therapy.”

                Max lied face down on the bed, her feet near the head of it this time, her focus was now the television. “It looks like that press conference is in half an hour.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

                 Max and Chloe spent the next 15 minutes composing themselves. Max changed into the lighthouse T-shirt. Chloe suggested that Max should take a shower. Max hadn’t dared to look at the bathroom door since she had awoken. There was no way in hell that she was going to set foot in that room.

                Both girls were scouring the internet for information on the storm. Max was combing the list of the deceased on the FEMA website. There were names she recognized, but the large majority of them were strangers to her.

Chloe could see that Max was torturing herself. Chloe wasn’t sure if there was anything she could say to comfort Max. What happened to Max was supremely unfair in Chloe’s eyes. Max Caulfield could have stopped the tornado. All Max had to do was rewind time and let Chloe die.  The universe had given Max a terrible choice: The town or Chloe. Max chose Chloe in the end. Chloe felt guilty even though the choice was out of her hands. ‘I’m not worth all these people.’ She thought.

Chloe’s eyes widened as a new text notification popped up on her phone. This was the kind of news they needed right now.

“Max, I just got some info from Justin’s Facebook,” Chloe said, “All of the students at Blackwell made it out, or at least everyone who was on campus when the storm hit.”

Blackwell Academy was the prestigious Arcadia Bay art school where Max attended. Mark Jefferson had been a professor there. Chloe’s stepfather, David Madsen, had been a security guard.

“There are huge ass storm bunkers under the school,” Chloe said. She was standing now, happy to be able to deliver good news. “The Prescott family made their money on bomb shelters in the cold war. It makes so much sense dude!”

The wealthiest family in Arcadia Bay was the Prescott family. In the 1960’s the Prescotts had made a fortune capitalizing on the public fear of the atomic bomb. Blackwell Academy was founded primarily by donations from the Prescott family. Chloe was making the connections.

“I bet the Prescotts helped fund the school so that they would get contracts to build the shelters underneath it or some other corrupt shit like that.” Chloe continued with her theory, “Back when I went to Blackwell, Justin, Trevor, Rachel, and me would sneak into the shelters and hang. It’s so hella fucking cool that Justin was able to save people.”

                Max checked her Facebook feed. Chloe was right. There was a photo of Justin standing in front of a large crowd of people. He had saved dozens of students. Max felt a massive amount of relief. She scanned the photo carefully. She knew most of the students that went to Blackwell academy. The population of the school was quite small due to its exclusive nature. She recognized a majority of the students in the photo. There were some faces that were missing.

                “Chloe this is so wonderful…” Max said, “…but there are so many people that aren’t there. I let those people die Chloe.”

                Max’s words were infuriating. Chloe thought it better to save her frustration. Now was not the time to argue.

                “Look,” Max motioned to the television.

The press conference was about to begin. Chloe raised the volume of the old television. The screen showed a polished wooden podium sitting in front of a glass fronted building. The Seattle municipal court. There were clusters of journalists waiting for a speaker to appear.

A man in khaki slacks and a white dress shirt approached the podium. He had long, blonde, unkempt hair that dangled down around his ears and curled up past his chin, which was covered in a blond well-groomed goatee. He was very fit. He had the look of someone who had been working tirelessly. The bottom of the screen read: “Northwest NOAA Station Chief, Walker Williams.”

The man with two last names started his announcement as the crowd came to a still hush.

“First off I would like to give my sympathy to everyone that was caught up in the tragic events that happened yesterday. FEMA has done a wonderful job coordinating rescue efforts. They have asked me to read a few statements. If anyone you know is still missing you need to contact FEMA immediately by phone or on the FEMA website. Survivors of the storm that are displaced are to report to Blackwell Academy. The football field will become a temporary housing area; there will be food, water, and medical supplies there. The National Guard will continue to sweep the area for survivors.”

 

 The man paused briefly, shuffling a few papers around on the podium before continuing, “I must say that this was no normal meteorological event.  Our preliminary data sets show that this was not a tornado. You see, a tornado usually rotates cyclonically. This means that in the northern hemisphere the strong majority of tornados spin counterclockwise and in the southern hemisphere the strong majority spins clockwise. There have been exceptions to this rule but they are fairly rare. This meteorological phenomenon was compromised of bands of spinning force spinning in opposition to one another, hundreds of them. These oppositional forces are what caused such heavy damage.   This has never been seen before. In the days preceding the storm there were very strange lunar patterns observed in and around the northwest region. We have been in contact with NASA since late last night trying to see if any connections can be made. Early this morning cooperating NASA and NOAA principal investigators named the event a Lunar Vortex. If anyone in the scientific community believes that they can contribute to the understanding of this event please contact NASA immediately. Once again our thoughts and prayers go out to the families of the deceased and anyone that is still looking for the missing. I would like to open up the press conference to questions from the press at this time…”

Max and Chloe watched the remainder of the press conference. Walker Williams fielded several questions from the journalists about the storm. All of the answers were honest and scientifically accurate as possible. The press conference wrapped up and Chloe turned off the television.

“Damn that guy was a hunk.” Chloe remarked.

Max sighed at the inappropriate comment. In the back of her mind though she knew Chloe was correct. The man with two last names was quite handsome.

“I guess this means the storm really was my fault.” Max said. She wanted to feel bad for herself again.

“Max lets go see that guy.” Chloe said. She was very serious now and Max could see the excitement growing. “Maybe he can help us understand your power? He is in Seattle, we are going to Seattle, it’s can’t be a coincidence.”

“They will probably just try and dissect my brain.” Max said. She hopped out of bed and started looking for her socks and shoes.

Chloe stood up and put her hands on her hips, “Come on man, this isn’t some dystopian sci-fi novel from the 60’s. That guy looked legit. He would totally respect your human rights.”

“I just want to get home Chloe.” Max said. She started packing the suitcase. She motioned for Chloe to do the same. Somewhere in the back of her mind Max knew Chloe was right. She would have to tell someone else about her powers eventually.


	2. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 2 - (First Edit)

Max Caulfield and Chloe Price stepped out into the October sunlight. It was the kind of weather that confused the skin. The wind was cool and biting, aided by the distant call of the ocean. The sun contrasted perfectly, its warm radiation cascading down upon the scene, bringing relief.

Chloe patted the back left pocket of her torn up jeans. The small wad of cash would be more than enough to pay for the stay. She looked over at her companion. Max had just finished locking the door to the room they were staying. Chloe motioned for Max to toss the room key.

“Give me the key” Chloe said, “Imma go settle some bidness with Sherman.”

Max cupped the small golden room key in her right hand. She swung her arm low in a tossing motion. The key flopped uselessly into the ground next to Chloe’s feet. Max could feel the judgment coming from her companion.

“You’re like the most powerful being on the planet right now. The master of time and space.” Chloe said. Chloe was shaking her head in a scolding fashion. Chloe had also found the objectively terrible throw to be adorable.

“Ugh, just hurry up.” Max said. “We have to get the hell out of here.”

Chloe flipped the key up into the air with the toe of her boot. Her hand shot out and grabbed it. She felt impressed with her own maneuver. Chloe turned and made her way toward the tiny office of the motel. Max’s phrase ran through Chloe’s mind as she walked. “We have to get the hell out of here.” It was something Rachel Amber had said countless times.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------

 

Max watched as the blue haired punk girl stomped off to the office. Max climbed into the passenger seat of the old truck Chloe oftentimes called “the beast.” The black suitcase was sitting beneath the old cracked bench seat. Max set her faithful messenger bag on her lap and rifled through the contents.

She retrieved a large manila envelope with the words “handicapped fund” written in marker. She cracked the envelope top. There was exactly $4500 in one hundred dollar bills inside. Max tried to not think about the two whales diner. The images still came to her mind. The bodies of Joyce Price, Frank Bowers, and Warren Graham, riddled with shrapnel. She paired the images in her mind with the new information about the vortex obtained from the press conference. The shrapnel must have been like a sandblaster, slowly mowing over the town.

Max felt quite ill. She took a deep breath and looked around the parking lot. The motel must have cleared out earlier that day. There was only one other vehicle in the lot. Max assumed it belonged to Sherman.

She placed the “handicapped fund” back into the messenger bag and retrieved her cell phone. She brought the FEMA website up in her web browser. She read the recognizable names of the deceased to herself.

“Alyssa Anderson, Evan Harris, Joyce Price, Warren Graham, Frank Bowers…” The next name on the list stunned Max. “Mark Jefferson?” Max asked aloud, unable to believe what she was reading. The last time Max had seen the psychopath, serial killer, and former teacher he was in custody of David Madsen, Chloe’s stepfather.

Max felt the driver side door swing open. The truck dipped as someone clambered behind the steering wheel. Max continued to thumb her phone as the door slammed shut.

“I think you should try calling David again Chloe. Look at this.” Max said. She held her phone up so that the driver could see.

“This is upsetting news indeed.” Mark Jefferson said. He was sitting in the driver seat. He seemed sincerely upset at seeing his name in the list of deceased.

Max stared at Jefferson.

“Okay Max, looks like I’ll be joining you on the road. Where are we off to anyway?” Jefferson asked. He let out a large yawn as if he too had just crawled out of bed.

Max’s brain finally made the connection. She jolted up in her seat, throwing her phone towards the unwanted driver. Max blinked one time and Jefferson was gone. Her phone clapped hard against the driver side door panel. Max spun sharply in her seat, scanning the parking lot. There was no sign of the evil professor. Max opened the passenger door of the old truck. She hopped out checked the truck bed. Nothing. She scanned the parking lot one last time. There was no sign of Jefferson at all. He had vanished.

Max’s breathing slowly returned to normal. Max climbed into the passenger side of the old truck, slamming the door shut. She retrieved her phone from where it had fallen on the old bench seating. The FEMA website remained unchanged. It still listed Mark Jefferson as one of the deceased.

The driver side door ripped open. Max let out a small scream. It was Chloe.

“Jesus dude. jumpy much?” Chloe said. She was taken aback by the scream.

“Chloe, let’s get the fuck out of here.” Max said. There was urgency and relief in her voice.

“Hella Yes”, Chloe responded. She hopped into the driver seat.

The old, yet well maintained truck roared to life as Chloe turned her key in the ignition. Max stared out the window as Chloe pulled out of the Seagate parking lot. They had finally started their journey.

 

 

\---------------------------------------------

Chloe Price’s old Sierra was cruising down Interstate-5. Chloe and Max were heading north towards Max’s Seattle home. It was past 1:00pm at this point and the beautiful October day had turned overcast. Both girls were caught in a discussion about the events that had happened in the parking lot of the Seagate Motel.

Chloe was determined that she had found a diagnosis. She had been focused on driving, but was more than capable of keeping up with Max’s explanation of the events.

“You must have PTSD.” Chloe concluded, “David explained the symptoms to me before, he said he knew plenty of guys from the war that have it.”

Max was on her phone; she began googling the disorder.

“Let’s see,” Max said. She began reading from her phone, “PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder. The first symptom is reliving the event. You will experience the same horror and fear you experienced during the originating event. It even lists nightmares as an avenue for this to happen.”

Max’s discomfort was growing exponentially as she continued to read the article, “You will often times find triggers that make you think about or relive the event.” Max looked down at the picturesque lighthouse on her shirt. She felt ill; she could see the Arcadia Bay lighthouse in her mind. The image of the vortex bearing down upon the helpless town was vivid; the hopelessness of it all came flooding back to her.

“Stop,” Chloe said. She could see the change in Max, feel it. Chloe was frightened of the change. “Don’t read anymore Max. We can’t change anything right now; it’s fucking pointless until we get to Seattle.”

“You’re right Chloe.” Max said. She tried to put on a smile.

The windows were up and the heat was pumping in through the vents. The sun might be able to combat the cool October afternoon while basking, but the rushing air of an open window was much too cold for comfort.

Max continued to thumb through her phone. She found herself drawn back to the FEMA website. Max found the name “Mark Jefferson” on the FEMA list once again. She decided to look at the list of the survivors. David Madsen was on the list of displaced refugees.

“Chloe pull over,” Max said.

Chloe pulled the truck off onto the shoulder of the highway, “What’s wrong?”

Max waited for the truck to be fully in park, “Look Chloe.” Max handed her phone over. The list of refugees was displayed on the small screen. “David made it Chloe. He’s alive.”

Chloe Price was tough. She had lost so much in her life already. Her misfortunes had started in 2008. Bongo, her cat, had been run down by a delivery truck. Max had been there for the unfortunate event. A few months later, Chloe’s father William was killed in an auto-accident. It was only days later that Max was forced to move to Seattle. Chloe had lost her father and her best friend within a week.

Even in 2013, six months ago, Chloe’s lover had gone missing – Rachel Amber. Max and Chloe had only recently discovered Rachel’s fate. The girl had been captured by Mark Jefferson. The serial killer’s protégé, Nathan Prescott, had accidently killed Rachel with an overdose of sedative. Max and Chloe had found the location of Rachel’s body, buried in the Arcadia Bay junkyard.

The most recent loss had been Chloe’s mother, Joyce Price. Joyce had been killed almost 24 hours ago by the ‘lunar vortex’.

All of Chloe’s losses came pouring back to her now. Her eyes began streaming with tears.

“It’s okay Chloe,” Max said. She scooted across the bench seat, placing her hand on Chloe’s shoulder, “David is okay, he made it out.” Max was a bit confused at her friend’s reaction.

Chloe began wiping at her tears with the sleeve of the sasquatch crossing shirt.

“I know Max,” Chloe said. She turned her head to look at Max. Chloe’s tears had somehow doubled, becoming a pure form of grief, “I can’t lose anyone else.”

Max’s heart broke a little bit at the sight. She wrapped her arms around Chloe’s tall torso.

“You’re all I have left Max.” Chloe said, “You and David.”

“You know I’d never leave you,” Max said.

“BUT YOU DID,” Chloe cried out. Her voice was low and full of anger.

Max felt the impact of Chloe’s hands. Chloe had pushed Max away. Max could see a look of anger now coming out through Chloe’s tears, maybe it was hatred. Max was about to say something but Chloe interrupted.

“Just listen to me,” Chloe said. The anger was still present, “After you left for Seattle I didn’t have anyone.” Chloe took in and let out a deep breath, “You left so soon after Dad died, I think I was still in denial about the whole thing when you left.”

Chloe continued, “I didn’t have anyone. Mom was still functioning I guess but she wasn’t really there. Sometimes we didn’t speak for days. She didn’t even sit me down to talk about Dad’s death. She basically just ignored me. I’m still fucking angry thinking about it. She fucking abandoned me. I was fourteen years old and she left me in the god damn wind man.”

Chloe continued to vent, “Joyce didn’t help me.” Chloe’s voice was rising in volume, “I just needed someone and she just didn’t help me. I thought I would be okay though. I thought my friend would call me.” Chloe’s voice was vitriolic and frightening, “You know how fucking long I waited for you to call me? There were days when I just sat at home staring at my phone. Surely this will be the day Max would call. I figured YOU would know what to do about mom. But no, YOU FUCKING ABANDONED ME TOO.” Chloe’s final words had been a scream.

Chloe buried her head and arms into the steering wheel.

Max was too scared to act. Chloe’s words had wounded Max badly. Max felt like she was hyperventilating. She finally understood what she had done to her friend. Tears were welling up in Max’s eyes.

“Your phone call was the only bit of hope I had left.” Chloe said. Her head was raised now; most of the anger had left her, replaced by a sense of quiet acceptance, almost nostalgia, “Every day you didn’t call me that hope dwindled. Do you know what it is like to slowly lose hope?”

“I was left hopeless,” Chloe said. Chloe brought both of her hands to her face. The following confession held a deep shame. “I was going to kill myself.”

Chloe continued with her confession, ignoring Max’s look of horror, “It was the cliff by the lighthouse. A few months after dad died and you left. I would walk up to the lighthouse every day and stare off into the sea. Every day I came closer to leaping. I would tell myself over and over ‘I want to die.’” Chloe paused, she leaned back into the bench seat, letting her shoulders slump, “It was a Friday. I was going to do it. That Friday would have been the day I died.” A warm nostalgic smile crossed Chloe’s face, “I was standing at the edge of the cliff, ready to end that shit, and the next thing I hear is someone calling out to me. It was Rachel. It was like I told you, she literally saved me Max. She stomped right up to the cliff edge and started asking me about birds. Blue Jays, sparrows, cardinals, even fucking pheasants. I tried to ignore her but she was so damn annoying. She grabbed me and made me sit on the bench. She told me about wanting to go to Blackwell and loving photography. She wanted to get some sweet nature shots. She made me promise I would meet her the next day so that we could explore the woods. She had no idea that she had given me a reason to live, even if it was to go look at lame ass birds.”

This was the most intimate Chloe had been with Max since their reunion. Max relished the chance to listen, her fear was gone now. They were in the truth together.

“We met every day at the lighthouse and just explored,” Chloe said, “That is how we came across our sick junkyard lair. I told her everything, about you, about my parents. I told her everything Max, and in doing so she became my everything. Rachel is what I had.”

Chloe kept speaking; the weight was being slowly lifted.

“It was like that for the better part of a year. Mom came back around eventually too. It was David that really brought Joyce back,” Chloe said. Chloe noticed Max’s captivated look. Chloe paused as if asking Max permission to continue.

Max said, “Keep going. Tell me everything.” Max needed to hear it all.

“I never really gave David a fair chance,” Chloe said, “I resented him from the beginning. I tried so hard to get mom to talk to me, to open up, especially after Rachel saved me. I guess I was jealous that he was able to get through to her when I couldn’t. I was still pretty messed up about dad too. David kept trying to get all dime store psychology on me. At the time I thought he just wanted to look good in mom’s eyes. It made me so mad. I acted out like a damaged little brat. No one was there for me back then, not even you, so why the fuck should I let them back in now? You know what I’m saying? It was just Rachel, she was all I needed.”

Max nodded her head to show she was following the conversation.

Chloe continued, “And then Rachel kissed me. It was about this time last year. We were at this shit party Frank was throwing. It was a bad scene man, all kind of shady fuckers, real sons of anarchy type dudes. Frank had told us that he was trying to secure some connects for his business. We were all around a bonfire down at the beach and drinking. This one guy is running his mouth all night long. ‘I’m the baddest motherfucker here.’ blah blah blah. Everyone knew he was looking for a fight. Someone finally just had enough and pulled a gun on him. I grabbed Rachel and ran. I didn’t know where we were going; just sprinted off into the woods with her. There were gunshots but I didn’t look back, I just needed to get Rachel out of there you know. When we stopped running Rachel pushed me up against a tree and kissed me.”

Chloe was turning a deep red shade of embarrassment. “I had kissed boys before, but I knew when she kissed me that it was different. I was never confused about what I should or shouldn’t be when I was with Rachel. She made me understand what love really was.”

Chloe paused. She knew that speaking about Rachel’s disappearance was going to be difficult. Rain had started to pour down around the parked truck. The windows were fogged up from the breathing of the two girls.

“She only disappeared in April. It was the same as before though,” Chloe said, “Every day I couldn’t find her a small sliver of hope drained away. It made me think of the way that you never called me. I even thought maybe Rachel had abandoned me on purpose.” Chloe’s eyes were wide and unblinking. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “It was exactly the same Max. The pain was the same. I hadn’t thought about that pain in years. Losing William never got easier. That pain will always be the same, but what Rachel taught me about love changed the way that I looked at how you and I used to be. I realized that I loved you, I have always loved you Max. You were my everything before. Rachel was my everything after. You were both gone.” Chloe paused. “But you came back to me. You came back to me Max.”

“Please Max,” Chloe begged, “I can’t lose everything again. I need to know if this is real.”

“It’s real Chloe,” said Max. She slid back across the bench seat, confident that Chloe would allow her near. Max reached her arms up, bringing her hands to Chloe’s face. Max guided the lanky girl’s face down to her own.

“Let me be your everything again.” Max whispered. This was going to be the confirmation that both of them needed. No doubt would be left after this moment.

Chloe wrapped her arm around Max’s torso as they kissed. Max blushed as Chloe lifted her up. Their lips met. It was a hard kiss. Max could feel Chloe’s warmth from their proximity. Their lips unlocked, both of them were breathing laboriously.

Chloe brought her left hand up to Max’s cheek, wiping away a strand of errant hair. Their blue eyes were locked together. Chloe brought her face down to Max’s one more time. Their eyes closed. This time the kiss was much more intimate. Max could feel Chloe’s tongue asking to meet her own. She obliged the request. It was Max’s first true kiss.

The kiss ended. Breath was hanging heavily in the air. Chloe lowered the weight of the smaller girl back to the bench seat. She uncoupled herself from Max. Chloe’s cheeks were still filled with tears, but a large smile was across her face. “Thank you, Max. I just needed to know what this was. I know it’s love now.”

“I love you Chloe,” Max said. Tears of relief were falling from Max’s face now, “I will never abandon you again. I almost destroyed time to save you.”

“You saved me Max,” Chloe said. She turned and drew Max into her arms, holding the girl against her chest, “I feel like you are still saving me right now.”

“I’ll always save you.” Max said. Max reached down and took Chloe’s hand. “Promise me something Chloe. Promise me that you will try to be happy. That is all I want. I just want you to be happy. You deserve to have happiness. It doesn’t matter what it takes.”

“The thing that would make me happiest is you.” Chloe said.

“That settles it,” Max said. She had pulled herself away from Chloe, “We’ll make our own happiness. No matter the time or place, as long as we’re together, we can make it.” Max extended her hand out, silently asking for a handshake. Chloe took Max’s hand. Both of their eyes met as they shook on it.

“Partners?” Chloe asked.

Max nodded, “For life.”

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

Max was driving now. She was a good driver even though she hadn’t driven in months. Some skills never atrophy once you obtain them. They truck was only a few hours away from Portland, cruising down I-5. Driving was a wonderful distraction for Max. The road demanded enough of her attention to keep the mind from wandering to dark places.

Chloe was sitting in the passenger seat. She had tried calling her stepfather, David Madsen, but there was no response. The girls had decided that David’s phone must have either been lost or destroyed in the storm.

Max’s phone was sitting on the bench seat. It blinked, indicating she had received a new text message.

“Check that.” Max said. She nodded towards the blinking phone, “It could be important.” Most of Max’s texts had been important as of late.

“Too straight-edge to text and drive?” Chloe joked, “Maybe GAY-edge would be a better description. Get it? Because we’re in love and stuff.”

“Puns might be the one thing I love more than you, but please check the phone Chloe.” Max said. She was amused.

Chloe reached down and checked the phone. There was a text message from Kate Marsh.

“It’s from Kate Marsh.” Chloe said, “She wants you to call her ASAP, you are in her prayers.”

Max turned on the blinker of the old C/K and pulled onto an exit ramp. She pulled into a gas station just off of the highway. The gas station was primarily empty. Max had pulled up to one of the pumps.

Max took her phone from Chloe. She pressed the small phone icon and selected Kate from her list of contacts. The phone began to ring. Someone picked up the other line, there was no response.

“Hello?” Max asked. There was silence on the phone for a few seconds.

“Max?” It was clearly Kate Marsh’s voice. “Oh, Max is that you?”

“It’s me, Kate.” Max said. “It’s Max.”

The windows had fogged up again in the old truck. Chloe was listening to the phone conversation. She was remaining respectfully quiet. Chloe turned the heater on to a low setting as not to disturb the call.

“You’re okay Max?” Kate asked. Max could hear the fear in the sweet girl’s voice.

Max was reassuring and concise with her response, “I am okay Kate. I made it out of the storm. I’m not hurt. I am with a friend, Chloe Price. We are on I-5, heading for Seattle. I’m going home Kate.”

“Max, this is great news,” Kate said. “I prayed so hard.”

Max could hear the relief in Kate’s voice. Max suspected that the girl was crying.

“It’s awful.” Kate said. “Alyssa and Warren are dead Max. So many others too.”

Max became quiet and still. A blank look crossed her face. Max was staring at the key, planted into the ignition. The little panda robot on Chloe’s keychain was dangling back and forth, being pushed by warm air from the vent. What Max was really seeing was the image of Warren Graham’s body, filled with shrapnel. There were two emotions. The first was guilt. The second was much worse: nothing.

“It’s terrible.” Max whispered. There were no visible emotions on her face. She just continued to stare.

“I’ve been trying to call Stella all morning, FEMA is listing her as missing still,” Kate said, “Do you have any clues?”

Chloe could hear most of the conversation. The phone was at its loudest volume. Chloe could see that Max was out of it. Chloe scooted across the cracked old leather bench. She wrapped her left arm around Max.

“Breathe.” Chloe whispered.

Max took a deep breath. She leaned her shoulder into Chloe’s armpit, accepting the comforting embrace.

“I’m sorry.” Max said. There were no answers for Kate.

“That’s okay,” Kate said, “I’m sure she will turn up just fine.”

Kate continued, “Victoria and Nathan are both missing too. I really hope that they are okay. Victoria isn’t answering her phone. I’m very worried about her.”

Kate words had pierced Max’s heart like a bullet.

It was Saturday afternoon. Kate Marsh had tried to kill herself on previous Tuesday. Nathan Prescott and Victoria Chase had pushed the quiet girl to do so. Nathan and Victoria were the elite of Blackwell Academy. They had bullied Kate, a religious, quiet, and thoughtful girl. It was Max who had saved Kate, talking her down from the edge of the school rooftop.

After all of this, Kate Marsh had not only forgiven Victoria and Nathan; she was worried about their well-being.

Max knew Kate so well; she knew why the sweet girl wanted Victoria and Nathan to be okay. Max knew that Kate believed in redemption, even for the people that had driven her to suicide. What a beautiful and hopeful thought.

Max also knew that Kate would never get her redemption. Mark Jefferson had killed both Victoria Chase and Nathan Prescott. They were posted on the FEMA website as missing only because Jefferson had hidden their bodies. All of Kate Marsh’s hope for them was never going to pay off. It was all going to be a waste. What was Max supposed to say? How could she tell Kate any of this?

All of this information ran through Max’s head in a few moments.

She broke. The change was instantaneous. Max’s eyes narrowed; her brow furrowed; her lip began quivering. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Max let out a moan. It was the kind of noise you made when you were helpless. It was like calling out to someone who was about to fall, but they couldn’t hear you.

Max’s throat was clogged; her face wracked with grief. She was able to choke out a few words, “I can’t…”

Max could feel her hands and arms tense up. She dropped the phone; she couldn’t be in the conversation anymore. Max buried her face into Chloe’s chest.

Chloe turned to accept the desperate girl.

Max was pushing as hard as she could. The force caused the truck to sway gently.

Chloe took the force. She encapsulated max in her arms, swaddling the small girl. Chloe could feel the tears and snot pouring from Max’s face.

“Hello?” the phone called out form the floor of the truck.

Chloe laid Max down into her lap and reached past the devastated girl to the phone on the floor.

“Kate?” Chloe asked into the small device.

“Oh is this Chloe?” Kate asked in response.

“Yeah,” Chloe said. She looked down at Max in her lap who was still a huge mess. “Max tripped and dropped the phone. She banged up her knee pretty bad.”

“Oh,” Kate paused for a moment, “I thought you were on the road?”

Chloe was quiet for about 3 seconds. She hadn’t really thought her previous statement through.

“Yeah well, she is really clumsy.” Chloe said with confidence. Chloe felt actively embarrassed at her lame answer. Chloe thought that she felt Max giggling through her tears.

“…oh, ok,” Kate accepted the weird answer, “You heard that David is alright?”

“Yeah he was on the internet as a refugee,” Chloe said, “I haven’t been able to talk to him yet.”

“When you see David again would you tell him to call me?” Kate asked. “I have a lot of things I need to say to him.”

Chloe could sense the importance of the request.

“I’ll have him call you, “Chloe said. “I promise.”

“Oh Chloe I have to go,” Kate said, “My dad is back with food, we are on the way to Spokane, we have some family out there. Tell Max not to worry about Alice, Dana has her. It was nice talking to you again Chloe, have a blessed day.”

“Bye.” Chloe said. She ended the phone call.

Chloe thought about the limited time she had attended Blackwell Academy. Being a security guard, David had gotten Chloe in tuition free. Chloe had talked to Kate before, but they were mostly acquaintances. Chloe was relieved that Kate was okay.

Chloe looked down at Max. Max seemed content to just remain in Chloe’s lap. Chloe was rubbing Max’s arm trying to calm her.

“Dana has Alice,” Chloe said. “That mean anything to you?”

“Yep, I heard,” Max said. “Alice is Kate’s rabbit. Dana is a friend from Blackwell.” Max felt Chloe lean over her.

Chloe was examining Max’s face. She brushed Max’s brown hair aside so that she could see Max’s eyes. They were bloodshot from the day’s tears.

“I’m okay,” Max reassured the worried girl, “I don’t know how I will ever be able to tell her what happened – to Victoria, to Nathan, to me. She doesn’t even know that Jefferson drugged her. How can I tell her something like that, it will hurt her so much Chloe. The thought of it breaks my heart.”

“You have to tell her.” Chloe said, “She has a right to know.”

“I know I do.” Max responded. She was irritated at how true Chloe’s statement was.

“We’ll tell her together.” Chloe said. She locked her hand with Max’s to reinforce the point.

Chloe looked around the gas station, they had been parked at a pump for at least ten minutes, “Max I know you love being by my crotch, but we are starting to get weird looks.”

Chloe was right. The cashier of the gas station was staring at the truck from behind the register.

Max rose from Chloe’s lap. She took her place on her own side of the bench seat. She waved out the window to the on-looking cashier. The man waved back, a bit confused.

“I’ll get us some food.” Chloe said, “Tell me what you want.” 

Max rested her head against the window pane of the passenger side door, “Something greasy and bad for me.”

Max watched as the tall, blue-haired girl disappeared into the station.

“Chloe is the thing that is bad for you. She seems kind of greasy too.”

Max turned her head. Mark Jefferson was in the driver seat. His feet were propped up on the dashboard. He seemed relaxed, as if he was supposed to be there.

Max was startled, but she wasn’t afraid.

“You’re going to tell Kate what I did?” Jefferson asked, “Seems cruel. Why not let her live in peace?”

“You were a monster, “Max said, “I’m going to expose you to the world.”

“The way I see it, you should be the one afraid of exposure.” Jefferson said, “Your body count is probably double mine at this point. It’s actually quite impressive. Bravo.”

Max was unfazed by the goading. Jefferson pulled the large blade out of his coat jacket.

“You can’t hurt me with that.” Max said, “You’re not real. I know you are dead.”

Jefferson put the blade back into his jacket with a shrug.

“How do you know for sure that I’m dead?” Jefferson asked, “I eluded the authorities for years Max. Do you really think I wouldn’t have a backup plan?”

“We’ll see,” Max said.

“Okay,” Jefferson agreed. He shook his head playfully, “I just hope no one gets stabbed in the meantime, like Kate.”

Max turned her head back to the station. She was sick of Jefferson’s bullshit.

Chloe was crossing back towards the truck; she had a small white paper bag in her hands. Chloe smiled as she saw Max staring at her.

“That smile was probably worth about 3 to 4 strangers’ lives.” Jefferson said. His sarcastic, mocking tone irritated Max to no end.

“Would you please shut the fuck up?” Max snapped. She started to rub her forehead, she was getting a headache.

“I’ll see you tonight buddy.” Jefferson said.

Chloe opened up the driver side door. Jefferson was gone. He had vanished into thin air.

“They got hamburgers dude.” Chloe said. Her joy was uncontainable.

Chloe slid the bag across the large bench seat before turning to pump gasoline. Chloe climbed into the truck after capping the gas tank.

“You okay?” Chloe asked. She was concerned at Max’s silence.

“I’m good,” Max said, “Just talking to myself.”

Chloe leaned over to the glove compartment. A small row of old cassettes was available. She selected one and popped it into the stereo. The Cramps -Journey to the Center of a Girl filled the old truck speakers. Chloe and Max were on their way.


	3. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 3 - (First Edit)

\-----------------------------------------------

The afternoon’s catharsis made the remaining drive to Seattle an easy one. Both Chloe and Max were content to listen to the old mix tapes containing both punk and psychobilly classics.

Max knew she should tell Chloe about seeing Jefferson again, but it somehow didn’t seem like an appropriate moment. Max knew there was nothing either of them could do about it right now.

The on-again, off-again sounds of rainfall combined with the steady rumbling of the large v8 engine were hypnotic. Max would have slept, but the idea that Jefferson could return kept her from doing so. She periodically browsed both the FEMA and CNN website. The final tally of the deceased was 83. It was a number Max had been inflating in her mind. She was relieved that the reality of the number was so low. She was also disgusted at her own relief. Max took the time to write the names of everyone she knew personally down in her notebook. There were three columns of names.

Survived:

Brooke Scott

Logan Robertson

Taylor Chrstensen

Juliet Watson

Hayden Jones

Michelle Grant

Justin Williams

Ray Wells

Trevor Patterson

Zachary Riggins

Daniel DaCosta

Courtney Wagner

Terry Hoida

Luke Parker

David Madsen

Dana Ward

Kate Marsh (not listed on the internet)

Samuel Spencer

 

Deceased:

Mark Jefferson (Max underlined the name.)

Warren Graham

Frank Bowers

Evan Harris

Joyce Price

Alyssa Anderson

Anderson Berry

R.J. MacReady

 

 

Missing:

Nathan Prescott

Victoria Chase

Stella Hill

James Gates (Chloe had recognized the name.)

 

Max looked up from her notebook. She was satisfied with her list. She made a pledge to herself. She was going to try and make things right with the victims and their families. Maybe in the case of Jefferson and Nathan making things right would mean exposing their crimes. There were two names she had come across that she wanted to run by Chloe.

“Chloe,” Max said. “Do the names Jacob and Elisa Amber mean anything to you?”

Chloe turned off the stereo.

“Yeah,” Chloe answered the question, “They’re Rachel’s parents.”

“They’re alive.” Max said. She scribbled the two names down into the survivors’ column.

“We’ll have to tell them about Rachel.” Chloe said. “They deserve to know.”

Max reassured Chloe with a nod. Rachel Amber’s body was buried in the Arcadia Bay junkyard. Mark Jefferson had buried her there after Nathan Prescott had inadvertently killed the girl with an overdose of sedative.

Max tucked her notepad back into her messenger bag.

“This is our exit coming up. I-405.” Max said. She motioned for Chloe to get in the right lane.

Max was very familiar with where they were on the highway now. This was the route that Ryan Caulfield drove to work every morning. Max felt like she was now on home turf. Max guided Chloe down a series of roads that eventually led to a suburb. It had taken a large portion of the day; the sun had sunken down behind the trees about an hour ago. It was almost 7:00pm, Saturday, October 12th.

The homes were nice, far nicer than Chloe had expected. She had known the Caulfields were well off, but the exact amount of their wealth had always eluded her.

“There,” Max said. She was pointing.

It was a large, two-story colonial with grey siding. There was a large annex which connected the garage, which was quite large itself, nearly half the size of the home. A smattering of stylish shrubbery and rocks were scattered underneath two large bow windows which hung from either side of the large, oak front door. There were two large windows on the second floor; they matched the style and trimming of the bow windows perfectly. Above the front door was a small window which seemed to indicate that the upstairs contained a hallway.

Chloe felt self-conscious. She didn’t feel properly dressed at all.

“Pull in the driveway.” Max said.

Chloe pulled the old Chevy into the brick paved driveway. Chloe shut the vehicle down, engaging the parking break and collecting the key from the ignition. She sat there patting the worn down steering wheel. The yellow glow of the porch light shone across the yard and the truck. Chloe pulled her beanie out from her back pocket. She couldn’t decide whether to wear it or not. She felt she might be judged for her blue hair. It was a strange feeling: caring about what others thought of you. It was something Chloe hadn’t done in a long time.

Max had already departed the truck. She was at the driver side door. Max opened Chloe’s door.

“I’m scared.” Chloe said. She was surprised at her own honesty. She felt like she could tell Max anything.

Max took the hat from Chloe’s hands, stuffing it into her messenger bag. Max loved Chloe’s hair.

“Why?” Max asked. Max offered a hand to Chloe.

Chloe took it, hopping down from the large vehicle. Chloe slammed the door shut behind her, tucking her keys into her pocket.

“I’m going to fuck up,” Chloe said, “I’ll probably say something offensive or dumb and get myself kicked out.” Chloe’s eyes were avoiding Max’s.

Max stepped directly into Chloe’s line of sight. Chloe had no choice but to lock eyes with the pretty freckled girl.

“Listen, “Max said, “You know my parents aren’t like that. You will always be welcome here.” Max reassured Chloe. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Chloe could feel the passion in Max’s voice. There was something a little scary about how Max had spoken. Chloe felt herself blushing in the wake of Max’s confidence. Max grabbed Chloe’s hand and began guiding the tall girl down the small red bricked walkway leading to the front door.

The couple stepped in between the two small columns holding up the overhang above the door. Max withdrew a small set of keys from her pocket. Max unlocked the large wooden door and pushed her way into the threshold.

Chloe took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

 

Max was buried in Vanessa Caulfield’s arms. The women were approximately the same height but Vanessa was encapsulating her daughter just the same. Both brown haired women were crying. Max’s tears though had the full emotional weight of pure release. They were the type of tears only children cried in the arms of their parents.

The tall and bearded Ryan Caulfield stepped up and took Max’s messenger bag from her arms and set it on a nearby table in the foyer. He motioned for Chloe to step inside. He held his arm out to take the large black suitcase from Chloe’s arms. Chloe handed the large container over. Ryan sat it next to the messenger bag.

The image of Max being held by her mother was too much for Chloe to overcome. Thoughts of Joyce were flooding back to her. Chloe began wiping her eyes with the palms of her hands, she couldn’t stop the tears.

Ryan Caulfield put his hand on his wife’s back. Vanessa looked up. Ryan was nodding in Chloe’s direction. Vanessa knew what her husband intended. Vanessa handed Max to Ryan. Max went willingly, burying her face into her father’s large flannelled chest. Ryan brought his left arm around his daughter, squeezing her against himself.

Vanessa Caulfield strode up to Chloe. Vanessa wrapped her arms around Chloe’s torso, beneath the arms. Chloe wasn’t prepared for Vanessa. The short and strong woman squeezed. Vanessa’s embrace was overwhelming.

“Welcome Home,” Vanessa said. Her words were stone.

Chloe knew now the fears had been unfounded. She knew now that she could call this place home. Vanessa’s unconditional love was insurmountable. Chloe openly wept; her chin was resting on Vanessa’s left shoulder.

Max wriggled free from her father’s muscular arm at the sound of Chloe sobbing. She turned towards Chloe, who was caught in Vanessa’s embrace.

Chloe and Max’s eyes met. Max’s smile was serene and loving.

Chloe was in middle of a realization. It had all been Max. Every emotion Chloe was feeling right now was because of Max. All of the hope, love, and acceptance Chloe was feeling had been a gift. Max had gifted Chloe her life back.

“Thank You!” Chloe called out. She was happy that Max had saved her life.

It was a moment Max would always remember. The happiness in Chloe’s eyes would stay with Max forever. It was the first time Max didn’t feel guilty about her decision to sacrifice Arcadia Bay.

 

\----------------------------------------------

Max Caulfield bit into the slice of pizza. It was the single best piece of food she had ever eaten. An hour had passed since Chloe and Max’s arrival at the Caulfield’s Seattle home. Ryan Caulfield had had two large pizzas delivered. Max knew her father well; he would always deliver comfort food in a crisis.

Max and Chloe were sitting on opposite ends of a rather large leather sofa. Max’s father Ryan was standing, staring out the front window. It was something he did often; he hated to sit for too long. Ryan was very tall. He had a good half a foot on Chloe, who was markedly tall. His arms were thick. Years of construction work had given him strength. His eyebrows were complex and bushy, the same as his beard. There was a hint of red in his brown beard; it was a strong indicator of his Irish descent. This heritage also explained the name Caulfield. On his right arm a large scar ran down the length of his bicep. Ryan always said he had received the injury during his logging days, a long time ago.

Max’s mother, Vanessa, who was seated in a large wingback chair, had dark brown to brunette colored hair. Her eyes were strikingly similar to Max’s, blue and popping. Max’s fine chin had also come from her mother; the cheekbones guided the eye downward with almost perfect symmetry. Vanessa was fit, she didn’t exercise but she always considered herself a health-conscious eater. She was wearing a white, untucked woman’s dress shirt and jeans.

Max turned to Chloe. Chloe was also thoroughly enjoying the pizza. Max smiled as a large glut of grease ran down Chloe’s chin. Chloe wiped it away with her arm. Realizing that she was making a mess, Chloe wiped her arm with a napkin. Max smiled at the embarrassment Chloe was trying to hide.

Max had been discussing the events in Arcadia Bay for the past hour. She had only mentioned the events that seemed sane. She had omitted everything about time travel, chaos theory, and her role in the vortex. There was also no mention of Mark Jefferson, finding Rachel’s body, or the Dark Room. Max was surprised at how short the story actually was when you removed all the insanity from it. Chloe was content to listen; she spoke primarily when Max indicated that she should.

“I’m so sorry,” Vanessa said. “No one should have to see a thing like that.” Vanessa was speaking to Chloe now. Max had been describing the scene at The Two-Whales diner in which the body of Joyce Price, Frank Bowers, and Warren Graham had been found, among others.

“Thank You,” Chloe said. She seemed distant. Chloe changed the topic. She didn’t want to start crying again, “Vanessa, do you think I can get in touch with FEMA? I need to speak to my step-father.”

David had been in the back of Chloe’s mind for the past half hour.

“I actually spoke to FEMA this afternoon, “Vanessa said, “Come with me, I have the number for the refugee operations coordinator.” Vanessa stood up and motioned for Chloe to follow her.

Chloe stood up. She followed Vanessa out of the living room.

Max looked around her home, it felt good to be back. The living room was mostly beige with green trim. There were green trinkets here and there to accent the rustic look. Two of Max’s favorites included an emerald green glass vase and a small tin three-leaf clover. The carpet and the ceiling were a matching off-color white. There was a small wooden coffee table in front of the couch. The pizza box was sitting on the table; next to it was a half empty bottle of Pepsi the girls had been drinking. Vanessa had risen from a large wingback leather chair, which was next to the couch at a perpendicular angle. All of the seating in the room allowed for clear viewing of a large flat screen television sitting on a large wood stand.

Ryan walked to the couch from the bow window. He sat down on the leather couch next to his daughter. He patted the spot on the couch next to him. Max stretched out on the couch, letting her legs lay across her father’s lap. It was their default position for watching movies.

“Your eyes are darker Maximillion.” Ryan said. Not many people knew that Max considered this to be an acceptable nickname.

Max leaned her head back onto the throw pillow at her end of the couch. She was staring at the ceiling now. Ryan was rubbing her feet. It was something he had done since she was a child.

“This was a hard week,” Max said, “It wasn’t just the storm.”

“Kate Marsh?” Ryan asked. He was aware of Kate’s suicide attempt.

Max sighed. She said, “Dad, I’m not sure I can explain half of the crazy shit that happened this week. Kate was only a piece of the puzzle.”

“Can’t explain or shouldn’t explain?” Ryan asked. He had locked eyes with his daughter. He always had the uncanny ability to read people. He could see the guilt roiling beneath Max’s freckled skin.

“Both.” Max said. She knew it was futile to try and hide her emotions from Ryan.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Ryan said, “but if you do, I’ll always listen.”

There was something different about Ryan’s words. His eyes also seemed a bit darker than usual. Max was unsure about what to say. For a brief moment she thought about telling Ryan about Jefferson and the dark room but her father’s introspective mood seemed to alleviate.

“So how about that Chloe Price?” Ryan said. “She seems a lot more rock and roll than the last time I saw her.”

Max smiled, “She is hella punk rock. It turns out, once your best friend always your best friend. She really came through for me this week.” Max became serious. She said, “Chloe lost so much.”

Ryan thought about William and Joyce Price. He had known William for most of his life; they went to high school together in Arcadia Bay.

“Bill was a good friend, and apparently so is Chloe.” Ryan said. “She can stay here as long as she wants.” Ryan knew this is what his daughter wanted.

Max sat up and hugged her father in appreciation.

Max’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out. She had received a text from Chloe.

The text read: “We have to speak alone.”

Vanessa and Chloe returned to the living room from the office. Chloe tucked her cell phone neatly into her jeans. Max saw a disquieting look in Chloe’s eyes, something wasn’t right. Max sat up in the middle of the couch so that Chloe could sit on the end opposite of Ryan. Vanessa returned to her spot in the wingback chair.

“David is okay.” Chloe said.

Max knew that everything was not okay. Chloe would be back flipping if everything was actually okay.

“That’s good,” Max said, she was trying to hide her unease, “What did he say?”

“He is going to stay in Arcadia to help arrange mom’s funeral.” Chloe said, “He told me he would call when he knew the arrangements.”

“That’s all he said?” Ryan asked. He could sense the story wasn’t quite right.

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “I think he is in shock. He has PTSD from the war; I’m really worried about him.” With those words Chloe started crying.

Max had seen Chloe cry so many times in the last 30 hours, she knew that these tears were a clever ruse.

Vanessa gave Ryan a scolding look. She then got up and disappeared into the hall, she returned a few moments later with four extra strength Tylenol. Max and Chloe both took two, downing the pills with the remainder of their Pepsi. Chloe eventually calmed herself down.

Max feigned a yawn.

“I haven’t slept in so long.” Max said.

“Oh that does sound good.” Chloe agreed.

“We have a guest bedroom.” Vanessa said, “I actually laid everything out this afternoon.”

“Chloe is going to sleep in my room,” Max said, “We were talking about it on the drive, Its going to be an old school sleepover, like when we were young.”

“That is a good Idea Max!” Vanessa said. It made perfect sense to Vanessa. It would be more comforting for the grieving girl. “Grab some extra blankets and pillows from the guest bedroom then.”

Max said goodnight to her parents. Chloe thanked Ryan and Vanessa again for letting her stay. Max guided Chloe up to her room, making sure to bring the messenger bag with her. It was only moments after Max had shut the door behind them that Chloe pulled out a post it note form her pocket.

“Listen Max,” Chloe said, “David was at the FEMA camp. I did talk to him and he does seem okay, but he had this urgency in his voice, Max it was so scary. This is what he said to me dude, I wrote it down word for word, ‘Tell Max I feel really bad that her professor was killed. I wish I had been there to stop it.’”

Max listened, too shocked to process everything one hundred percent yet.

Chloe continued, “He then told me to call him back at this number if we wanted to talk. He said we should call on Skype that way we can save on long distance.”

Max was confused.

“Don’t you get it?” Chloe said, “He doesn’t want us to use our phones, I think he is in serious trouble. We need to call this number Max, like right now.” Panic was starting to set into Chloe’s voice.

“I’ll start installing Skype right now.” Max said. She turned on her lamp and pressed the on switch to her small desktop.


	4. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 4 - (First Edit)

\---------------------------------------------

 

Max had been installing and configuring the messenger program Skype for the last 5 minutes.

Chloe was being patient. She was sitting on the extra-large full size mattress. She let her gaze wander around the large room.

Max’s walls were off white, in the dim lighting of the evening Chloe figured they might be a faint tan color. Chloe could see hundreds of pin holes. Max had taken all of her decorations, photos, and posters with her to Arcadia, including her bulbous pendant lights. The bed, covered in an inviting dark blue comforter, sat in the middle of the room, its head tucked underneath the shelving. The shelving had an eclectic collection of books which had become rather dusty in Max’s absence. Max was sitting at her wooden desk, which was tucked into the corner of the room between the bed and the wall. It was the type of desk you would expect a professional writer to have, not an 18 year old high school student.

There was a small wooden table meant for two with matching wooden chairs. Chloe remembered the small table from years ago, a relic from the Caulfield’s Arcadia days. Max and Chloe had used the furniture to hold a council of pirates, a brethren court. Every stuffed animal owned between the two girls had been present, organized into crews of scallywags. Max’s favorite teddy bear, the captain, had been named the king of the pirates. There was a small wooden sword leaning against Max’s large chest of drawers at the far end of the room. Chloe smiled, but it was only slight.

Max turned in her small black office chair to face Chloe, who was sitting on the bed.

“Chloe,” Max said. “Give me the number.” Max reached her hand out for the small yellow square of paper Chloe had been thumbing idly.

Chloe handed Max the bit of paper. There was a phone number on the post-it note. Max examined the number for a second. There didn’t seem to be anything strange about it.

“I’ve configured it so that we can hear through the speakers,” Max said. Max stood up motioning for Chloe to sit in the office chair. “You use the headset.”

Chloe nodded. She obeyed Max’s request and sat in the small leather office chair. Max seated the tiny headset on Chloe’s head, making sure it wasn’t too tight.

Max leaned in over Chloe’s shoulder and typed the number into the program and hit enter. She took a step back and sat down on her bed, which was only about a foot behind the office chair. The call had been sent. A pit was rising in both girls’ throats, the anticipation of the moment was hanging thick in the air.

The call symbol stopped flashing. The slight hiss of a microphone could be heard as a pixelated image of David Madsen appeared on the screen. David had a bandage on the right side of his face. He had square black hair and thick eyebrows. His mustache was antiquated but rugged. He was wearing an old Carhartt fishing jacket.

“Hello?” David’s voice came over the speakers. His web-cam was a few seconds behind, leaving a slight delay between the audio and video.

“David,” Chloe said into the headset, “It’s me, Chloe. Can you hear me?”

“Yes I can,” David said. “Who is that behind you?” David asked, Chloe could sense the suspicion in his voice.

Max stepped up behind Chloe, making sure the lamp could illuminate her face for the webcam. She waved into the web cam. David was a hero; he had saved her life in the Dark Room.

                A single tear fell down David’s left cheek. “I’m glad you troopers made it out.”

                “I have to tell you what happened.” David said, “No one can hear this conversation, correct?”

                Max crossed the room and cracked her door open. There was no one in the hallway. Max could tell that Vanessa and Ryan were downstairs. She closed the door. She was certain to make no noise. Max gave a thumb up to Chloe.

                “We’re alone.” Chloe said into the headset.

                “Good,” David said, “Let me tell you what happened.”

 

\--------------------------------------

 

           

David Madsen had barely slept at all. It was early, far too early for the rest of the world. David knew he would be waking up at 5:00AM for the rest of his life. The military had engraved that time into him. Years of training like that were almost impossible to break. Not that he would want to at this point, David loved waking up early. It allowed him to ‘get shit done.’

It was the early morning of Friday October 11th. It would still be hours until the “Lunar Vortex” would make landfall at Arcadia Bay Oregon.

David ripped off the old throw blanket he was sleeping under. He had slept on the couch before; most husbands do at one point or another. David folded the throw blanket into a neat square and laid it on the arm of the run down piece of furniture. Coffee was going to be the first step. Every human that makes it past the age of 30 knows that coffee is always the first step.

The events of last night began playing in David’s mind as he scooped Folgers into the Hamilton Beach coffee pot.

David had been at a bar the night of the 10th. Joyce Price had kicked him out. David was drowning his sorrows. He had always been the type to feel sorry for himself. He only had about two beers when he had received the call. Chloe Price, David's stepdaughter, had reached out to the man. David would never forget the phone call. Chloe had said that there was an emergency, that David should return home right away. David had returned home as quickly as he was able to.

David thought about the little wall of evidence. It was still sitting up in Chloe's room. Upon arriving home last night Chloe and Max had used the little evidence wall to help identify the location of a serial killer. Maxine Caulfield had been very clear in her instructions on the whereabouts, intentions, and motives of the killer – Mark Jefferson. David had called the police. He had spoken to Lieutenant Jerry Corn. Using Max's directions David was able to guide both officers Anderson “Andy” Berry and Darren Wilkinson to the Dark Room location. Using Nathan Prescott's small slip of paper David and Andy were able to determine the combination to the Dark Room's keypad. The three men were able to subdue the dangerous man without incident. Lieutenant Jerry Corn had arrived to the scene just as Jefferson was being placed into a police cruiser.

David recalled Jerry Corn's words: “You can't search the farmhouse, we don't have a warrant yet.”

David could feel the anger welling up inside himself even now, hours later. That stupid red tape bullshit. David felt himself jolt awake at the polite beeping of the coffee pot. He had only been home for three hours. The arrest had happened in the middle of the night. David poured a large mug of coffee. He put two tablespoons of sugar into it and a healthy dose of half-and-half from the refrigerator.

He sipped the coffee. Good.

David sat down at the Price family table. Joyce had kicked David out. He hoped that she wouldn't come downstairs to find him sitting there. David walked into the garage. He found the crumpled little letter. He brought the letter back to the dining room table and unfolded it.

“This is so damn pathetic.” David said.

 

The letter read:

“Joyce,

You know I'm not good at explaining myself or why I act the way I do sometimes. I only know that nobody has ever understood me the way you do. I would never do anything to hurt you or Chloe. Taking care of my family is my number one mission.

Yes I overstepped bounds with the surveillance and suspicion and I am truly sorry and ashamed. But there are dark things happening in Arcadia Bay I have never told you. You are my wife and partner and I know we should have no secrets. I intended to tell you everything but I wanted more proof. Instead, a student almost committed suicide on my watch, you kicked me out of my favorite home and my step-daughter hates me. Please let me (…)”

 

David Madsen retrieved a fresh sheet of paper from one of the kitchen drawers. He sat and contemplated his thoughts and his actions. David Madsen finished the letter. David was content with what he had written. Only Joyce would ever get to read it.

David's cell phone rang. This is the phone call he had been waiting for the last 4 hours.

“David Madsen,” David said into the phone receiver.

“Hey David it's Lieutenant Jerry Corn with the Arcadia Bay police department.”

“Jerry. How are you doing this morning?” David asked.

Corn's voice was haggard and creaky. “Tired.” Corn said, “We just got the warrant to search the farmhouse. I figure you've been such a boon to this investigation you might as well help Andy see it through to the end.”

“That was a fast warrant.” David said. He was impressed.

“Yeah well, you don't get many serial killer cases in the county.” Corn said, “This one looks like it is gonna be huge. Now David, I'm going to have you meet Andy at the barn. I want you and him to do an initial sweep of the area. I've already told him the details. I have to fill out a few last bits of paperwork but then I will meet you out there with our forensics tech. We got to do this one right David, we don't want this Jefferson fella to walk on a technicality.”

“Sounds good Jerry.” David said.

“Oh and David, consider yourself deputized for the time being. Okay now?” Corn said.

“Will do. Thank you sir. Maybe you will consider me for an officer position after all this is said and done?” David asked.

“That would be very reasonable at this point.” Corn said, “We'll talk about it later. You be careful heading out there now, seems like a storm is going to kick up in a little while.” Corn ended the phone call.

David stood up and poured the remainder of his coffee into the sink. He slipped on his boots and belt. David made his way to the garage. He unlocked the little glass gun cabinet. David grabbed his 45 caliber service pistol. David checked the chamber. It was empty. He proceeded to load the weapon and holster it at his side. The holster contained room for one extra magazine of ammunition David procured one from his ammunition box.

David walked through the Price household. He exited the front door, making sure to lock it behind him as he left. David's recently restored caprice was sitting parked across the street. He walked quickly to the vehicle. David looked up at the sky as he walked. This wasn't going to be a day where the sun showed itself.

David departed in the caprice. His destination was the Dark Room.

\-------------------------------

The drive to the Dark room was a long one. About 45 minutes in all.

David pulled down the dirt driveway that led to the barn. Anderson Berry was standing outside of his police cruiser. Anderson Berry, or Andy as he was known to go by, was in his early to mid-forties. He had two large widows’ peaks indicating that his hair was giving up the ghost. His face was kind and warm. Andy was wearing a standard police uniform.

Andy was on his cell phone. The phone call ended just as David exited from the Caprice. Andy slipped his phone into the front pocket of his shirt uniform.

“Madsen.” Andy called out to David. He walked over to caprice extending his hand for a welcoming shake.

David closed the car door and took Andy's handshake.

“Get much sleep?” Andy asked.

“Not really.” David's answer was candid, “I can't believe we had to wait for a warrant.”

“Yeah, well, it turns out that this property belongs to the Prescott's” Andy said, “We need to be airtight in our investigation or we will have very expensive lawyers crawling up our ass.”

David was surprised to hear Andy's words. David knew that Andy had worked for Sean Prescott on the side. Maybe the rumors had been exaggerated?

“We're going to have to talk to your step-daughter David.” Andy said, “You mentioned last night she was the one that pieced the evidence together?”

David answered, “Yes. She has a little wall of evidence in her room. It lays out how she came to the conclusion. I assume you will want that as evidence.” There was a hint of pride in his words.

“Yeah we'll probably need that.” Andy said, “We'll have to talk to the Marsh girl eventually too. She what she knows.”

David was quiet at the mention of Kate. He knew he had failed the girl. Kate Marsh had been one of Mark Jefferson's victims. David had been suspicious of the girl, accusing and harassing her, trying to find out what she was hiding. Kate had been hiding nothing. Kate was drugged, unable to recall what had happened to her. David now knew what happened to the girl. He remembered the events of last night one more time. Finding the binders Labled Kate Marsh and Rachel Amber had almost broken the man. He had been so wrong. David felt an unbearable guilt.

“Wake up Madsen,” Andy said, noticing the downtrodden look on David's face. He spoke, “You ready to do this thing?”

David nodded.

 

\-------------------------

Andy said that he would take the lead. He procured his flashlight from his belt. He pulled his pistol from his holster. His stance was tactical, making sure that his flashlight could be utilized at all points in time. David took a similar stance, demonstrating that he knew the technique. The farmhouse had not been cleared by the police yet. There was still a distinct possibility of danger. Andy and David began making their way from their vehicles up the winding dirt trail that led to the abandoned house.

It was an old farm house, two storied and wooden, most likely from the turn of the 19th century. It was apparent no one had lived on the property for what seemed like decades. As they approached, the men could see that all of the windows in the structures were broken. It looked like they had been broken years ago.

David felt like it took forever to reach the looming structure. Eventually they were standing before the old white front door of the building. Andy clicked his flashlight off and peaked into one of the broken window panes. When he felt satisfied that there was no movement he clicked his flashlight back on and scanned the inside.

Andy motioned for David to try the door knob.

“I take it we’re not knocking?” David asked.

Andy shook his head in negative response, “This whole fucking thing might collapse, you hear cracking noises you let go of the door and move your ass.”

David nodded. He reached out and turned the old door handle, it was unlocked – he pushed the door open. He was careful to heed Andy’s advice. The structure didn’t collapse. The inside of the building was terrifying. If you have ever been on the inside of burnt out structure you would know the feeling. Black mold had taken root throughout the old living room. There were sharp jagged pieces of wood jutting from the walls and ceiling. Any light the flashlights generated was being swallowed up by the dark pallet of the mold. It was as if the darkness would squeeze the bright round beams, slowly sucking the light away. David felt goosebumps crawl up his spine.

“Be glad there isn’t a basement.” Andy said. He seemed confident that no one was in the unsound structure.

There was a thrashing in the corner of the room. It was like the floor had come to life. A large black mass was gyrating on the ground. Andy swung his gun up to aim at the unidentifiable danger. David was fast; he smacked the startled officer’s hand away in time, the gun fired. The bullet dug into the far wall of the structure, harmless.

David strode forward, bringing his flashlight closer. It was a body bag. The dark coloration of the rotten wood had masked the dark bag, giving the illusion of inhuman, otherworldly motion. Andy felt embarrassed but was impressed by Madsen’s reaction time and instinct. David knelt down beside the bag and unzipped it. It contained a pretty, tall, short haired, blonde girl. She was bound and gagged. David knew her.

“I know her.” David said, “This is Victoria Chase. She is a student at Blackwell.” With those words he released the gag from Victoria’s mouth. He remained kneeling next to the girl.

Victoria Chase gasped for air. Her eyes were filled with tears. David reached down and undid the knots and rope that were keeping the girl from moving.

Victoria was blinded by the lights; she had been in darkness for what felt like an eternity. Her limbs were weak. The effects of Jefferson’s failed overdose were lingering in her system.

“Please help me.” Victoria cried. Her desperation was crippling.

“You are safe.” David said, “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know.” Victoria began wailing. She started pushing downwards as if covered by some unseen layer of dirt, trying to brush it away from herself. Her eyes were beginning to focus now. She reached up and brushed the face of her savior. She said David’s name. She leaned forward and buried her face into David’s chest.

“We’re going to get you out of here.” David said. He holstered his weapon and scooped the weak girl into his arms.

Andy had retrieved his weapon and was clearing the rest of first floor. Andy looked at the tiny staircase that led to the second floor. The entire top half had caved in. Andy shrugged.

“Fuck the second floor,” Andy said, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

They made their way down the dirt path. David was carrying Victoria. Victoria clung to David. Her grip was fierce. It was like when someone was drowning, clinging to anyone willing to help them. Andy kept his flashlight and gun drawn. His eye was sharp; the discovery of the girl could mean any number of dangerous things. He was scanning the area in sectors. The storm was worsening, the first crackling bolts of lightning lit the sky up, there was thunder rumbling in the distance.

They reached the barn. There was another police cruiser parked next to Andy's cruiser. It was a police branded Ford pick-up. Jerry Corn was standing in front of the vehicle.

Andy called out to Corn, “We found the Chase girl.”

Corn nodded. He turned to David who was still holding Victoria in his arms, “Carry her down into the bunker.”

“Won't that contaminate the crime scene?” David asked. The request was strange.

“I brought our forensics tech,” Corn explained, “She also happens to be a doctor. She can take a look at this girl.”

David obliged immediately. He knew that Victoria might need help. The girl had spent at least four hours trapped in a body bag. A second crackle of lightning and thunder seemed much closer. David carried Victoria to the entrance of the Dark Room.

“Be careful,” Andy said, “Don’t drop her.”

David took the stairs at a safe pace.

The lights of the Dark Room had remained on since Jefferson's arrest. There was a folding chair in the foyer of the bunker. David placed Victoria down on it. David thought it would be best for Victoria to not have to see the inside of the nauseating room ever again. He stayed eye level with her, kneeling next to the chair. He told her that he would be right back.

David rose and turned the corner to view the rest of the dark room. Sean Prescott was standing near the center of the room. He was a wide man, wearing a brown suit coat and black dress pants. His shoes were white leather. His hair was graying, but there were flecks of the remaining blonde-brown here and there. There was no tie, just an untucked white dress shirt and a single loose button near the neck.

David's eyes went wide. Mark Jefferson was lying on the small sofa of the Dark Room. His hands were cuffed behind his back. Jefferson was unconscious.

David heard the soft cocking of Andy’s revolver from behind him. David froze. It had all been a set up.

“Don’t move David.” Andy said, “I’ll empty all 5 rounds right in your back. No hard feelings.”

David opened his mouth to say something but it was too late. He felt the hard handle of Andy’s revolver come down against the back of his skull. David knew what to do. He had done it before during the war. David Madsen slumped to the ground. He was pretending to be unconscious.

David concentrated on his breathing. The trick to pretending to be unconscious was to make sure your breathing remained constant; it should look like your body is doing it autonomously.

Victoria screamed, she had the instinct to lunge for Andy’s gun. Her legs still wouldn’t work; she tumbled uselessly out of the small folding chair. David remained still.

“Good hit Andy!” Sean Prescott guffawed. “It looks like you really knocked him out.”

Corn appeared from the Dark Room's stairwell. He bent down and took David’s gun from its holster. He lifted David’s left hand and dropped it. David remained still, allowing his arm to be picked up and dropped.

“Yep,” Corn said, “He is out like a light bulb.”

“Victoria, please calm down,” Sean Prescott said. He walked up to the girl who had spilled onto the ground. He bent down and picked her up by wrapping his arms around her from behind, pinning her arms against her sides. Victoria began screaming and kicking. Her legs were so weak and useless from the overdose. She felt hopeless.

Sean carried Victoria into the studio portion of the Dark Room. There he found a chair that contained straps. Jefferson had purchased the chair at a junkyard; apparently it had come from a defunct mental institution. The straps, usually reserved for the mentally in-firmed were perfect for holding victims still. Sean secured Victoria in the chair, making sure she couldn’t escape. He produced a clean white handkerchief from his coat pocket. He fashioned a gag from the silk accessory and silenced the girl.

“That should be everything,” Corn said, “Can you think of anything else?”

Sean shook his head. “That’s it I think. I’ll call my cleaning crew in to get rid of all the traces.”

“Nikolai?” Corn asked.

“Yeah, we need the best for this one.” Sean answered.

David was in a ripe position to overhear everything. Sean Prescott was going to bury all of the evidence.

Sean Prescott grabbed the folding chair Victoria had been sitting in. He sat it next to the desk. He motioned towards Jefferson.

“Let’s get some answers before we call it in.” Sean said.

Prescott and Corn lifted the unconscious Mark Jefferson onto the folding chair. Sean Prescott spotted a small aluminum bucket by the small basin sink. He filled it with cold water from the tap. Both corrupt police officers waited for the bucket to fill. Sean threw the water in Jefferson’s face.

The serial killer snapped awake.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

Mark Jefferson snapped awake. The rushing sensation of water had brought the man back to consciousness. He tried to wipe the water from his face. His hands were tied, preventing him from doing so. After a few moments of excessive blinking the room came into focus. It was the Dark Room. Jefferson tried to stand. He was being push back down into the folding chair. Both Lieutenant Jerry Corn and Officer Anderson “Andy” Berry were restraining the man.

Sean Prescott reeled his arm back and planted his large meaty fist square into Mark Jefferson’s face.   
             

“Ugh,” Jefferson let out a grunt at the unexpected impact.

Jefferson reeled back in his seat. Corn and Andy pushed the man down, preventing him from rising.

“ _Do you know who the fuck I am?_ ” Sean Prescott asked. His gravelly voice was almost a shout.

Jefferson looked at Prescott very closely. He nodded his head indicating that he did indeed know who Sean Prescott was. The professor seemed calm for such a startling situation. His eyes darted around the room. David Madsen was passed out on the floor. Victoria Chase was strapped into the restraining chair. Jefferson locked eyes with the petite blonde.

Victoria couldn’t remove her eyes from Jefferson’s. The image of the body bag zipping closed ran through her mind. The slow dying of the light was all she could imagine.  She began thrashing wildly against the restraints. The chair refused to give way.

“Look at me, don’t you look at her again.” Prescott roared. He pulled his arm back far as it would go and brought the back of his hand square across Jefferson’s face. Sean Prescott’s ring left a large cut across Jefferson’s right cheekbone.

Jefferson spit a gob of blood onto the ground. His smile was filled with blood.

“There’s no need for violence, Sean.” Jefferson said. His tone was matter of fact, almost soothing. “I can explain. This isn’t actually what it looks like.”

“You’re right. We can be civil about this thing,” Prescott said, “But I’m having a real hard time right now. You see, I’m down here in this basement for the last 15 minutes, and I’ve got Jerry over here showing me all kinds of sick photos of young girls,  you’ve got a stockpile of drugs, most of which are sedatives, and now we find little Vicky over there in a body bag. What it actually looks like, in my humble opinion, is that you’ve been knocking girls off for years, taking fruity fucking photographs of the whole thing in the name of god, or art or some other shit. Does this sound like a fair assessment to you, or am I way off base here?”

Jefferson’s tone was flippant.

               “No,” Jefferson said, “you pretty much hit the nail on the head.” Jefferson let the statement hang in the air for a few moments, “Allow me to fill a few gaps in here and there?”

               Prescott reached behind his back and pulled out a .45 caliber handgun from his belt. The weapon had been hidden beneath his brown suit coat. It was chrome plated, shining brightly in the stark white lights of the Dark Room.

               “I’m all ears,” Sean Prescott said. He crossed his arms, ready to listen.

               “First off,” Jefferson started, “I’m not going to try to explain my motives to you. I’m not sure you would get where I’m coming from.”

               “Good,” Sean Prescott was enjoying such a smug exchange, “I didn’t want to hear that shit anyway.”

               “You’re going to want to hear the next part.” Jefferson said. “This part is really funny.”

               “You paid for all of it.” Jefferson said. “Well, technically, your wife paid for all of it.”

               “Oh I’m very aware of that piece of the story.” Sean Prescott said, “Vivian will have to answer some questions later tonight.”

                “Vivian,” Jefferson was wistful, he paused before continuing, “I knew I should have stayed in New York. Vivian convinced me otherwise.”

Sean Prescott had wandered over to the small desk. He was looking at a photo of Rachel Amber and Nathan Prescott. Both teens were unconscious, posed like dolls next to an open grave.

 “I’m going to need you to tell me where my boy is,” Sean said.

               “That was the part of the story I was getting to.” Jefferson said. “How about you untie me and we can continue?”

               Prescott nodded at Corn. Corn reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a small black object. Jefferson didn’t recognize the dangerous snapping noise of the switchblade until it was too late. Corn pulled Jefferson’s left ear away from his head. The blade had severed the extremity before Jefferson could react. The ear fell to the ground, tumbling through the air like a Frisbee, making a sickening slap noise as it hit the tiled floor.

               Jefferson’s body flailed, he tried to break free with all of his strength. For a moment Jefferson felt that he break free from the corrupt officers. A gunshot rang out. Jefferson collapsed to the ground. Sean Prescott had blown a hole in Jefferson’s right kneecap. Jefferson gasped in pain, falling to his shins. Prescott walked up and slammed the professor’s face on the desk.

Jefferson felt his nose break against the corner of the wooden furniture. He let himself collapse to the floor. He reached down to his leg, cradling the wound. His nose began running with blood.

               Prescott roared, “What happened to my boy?”

               Jefferson let a serene smile cross his face.

               “I used him,” Jefferson said, “He was weak and unstable. He had a rich, abusive father, how could I resist? He meant nothing to me. There was only one person who was truly able to understand my vision of the world. She was a better photographer than I could ever be. I am so proud of her.”

“You’ll never find your son’s body.” Jefferson said. He knew the consequences of his words.

One last thing passed through Jefferson’s mind before Sean Prescott’s bullet: “Hopefully I bought her enough time.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------

 

               David tried not to flinch at the sound of the gunshot. Even with the deafening noise, David thought he could hear the shattering of Jefferson’s skull. Victoria Chase was screaming. Her mouth was gagged but the noise she could generate was still quite loud.

               Sean Prescott turned to Corn.

               “Jerry,” Prescott said, “Make sure none of this can get back to me. Burn the files, bury the bodies.”

               David had his right eye cracked open, he knew that if he was going to act it would have to be sooner rather than later.

               “What about the surviving girls?” Corn asked. “Kate Marsh and Maxine Caulfield? You want them gone too?”

               Sean Prescott nodded, “Good call Jerry. Tell Nikolai we will double his fee. The Price girl should probably go too. One more thing Jerry,” There was genuine sadness in Sean’s words, “ Find Nathan’s body. Find my boy.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

               David could hear Prescott’s steps as the large man made his way towards the staircase out of the hidden bunker. David kept his breathing at a steady in and out, maintaining the deception.

               Victoria had not stopped flailing in the restraining chair. Corn nodded in David’s direction. Andy knew what he should do next. Corn crossed the room to the tied up girl. He held his knife to the girl’s throat.

               “I’m sorry honey,” Corn said, “You’re an inconvenience.”

               David watched as Corn crossed the room. He felt Andy looming above him. He knew Andy was going to put a bullet in in the back of his head. David knew his chances were not great. He took a deep breath; this was going to be the best chance he had…

               A massive clap of thunder rang out in the world above. The storm was finally making landfall on Arcadia Bay. The lights in underground bunker extinguished. The Dark Room was covered in darkness.

               David immediately rolled to his left. A gunshot rang out. Andy had fired, but David was no longer there. Andy called out for Corn. Victoria continued to squeal.

               David rose to his feet, trying to be as quiet as possible. The darkness was thick, impossible to penetrate. David guessed at Andy’s location. He charged, shoulder down, trying to flatten the disoriented man.

               David felt the handgun brush against his arm. He raised his elbow with expertise, knocking the gun into the air. It fired. The blinding flash illuminated the room. The bullet ricocheted dangerously but found no soft flesh to call home. David saw the look of confusion on Andy’s face in the brilliance of the flash. David plowed the man over. The gun slammed hard onto the ground with a metallic clank.

               Corn heard the two men fighting. The older man knew better than to wander through the darkness and get involved in a blind fight. There were grunts and slamming of fists. Eventually the ruckus ended. A calm stillness came over the room; even Victoria had quieted, trying to hear the scuffle.

               “Andy?” Corn called out into the dark room. No response came back.

               Corn drew his own weapon, a .38 caliber revolver. He cocked the weapon. The noise seemed deafening in the silent, pitch black room.

               “Say something Madsen,” Corn called out. “I’ll put a bullet in her head I swear to god—“

               The room flashed bright white, David Madsen’s bullet pierced Jerry Corn’s skull. The man slumped to the ground. The room was silent and dark.

               Victoria felt the gag around her mouth release.

               “Don’t say anything.” David said. “We’re getting out of here.”

               Victoria felt the restrains around her limbs fall lose. She began crying.

               “Don’t move.” David’s voice said.

               Victoria waited in the chair. After a few moments a flashlight clicked on. David had retrieved Anderson Berry’s flashlight. David aimed the light at the previous owner. Andy was unconscious. David thought about putting a bullet in the man’s head, but instead he tucked the weapon into the back of his jeans. David retrieved his own weapon from the desk, holstering it at his side.

               Mark Jefferson’s body was pooling blood onto the floor. The wound to the man’s head was gruesome. David could only look at the corpse briefly; it was terrifying in the pitch black of the underground shelter.

There was a red jacket with a blue collar sitting on the small leather couch in the studio area. David pulled the jacket around Victoria.

               “Nathan,” Victoria cried, “He tried to warn me.”

               “Can you walk?” David asked. They could still be in danger.

               “I can try.” Victoria said.

               Victoria reached out and took David’s extended hand. He pulled the girl to her feet. She leaned into David’s arm. They took it step by step up the stairs and out of the darkness. 

What they found in the barn shocked both of them.

               Sean Prescott was hanging in the barn. A large metal hook was pierced through the man’s chest cavity. The body was dangling by a metal chain attached to the hook. An old generator was the counterweight holding the body in suspension.        

David refused to stop moving, even when Victoria froze in fear. He told the girl not to look. He drew his weapon in his right hand, scanning the barn. Seeing no immediate danger, he continued shepherding the traumatized girl to his car.

David locked Victoria into the passenger side seat. He made his way to the trunk of the vehicle and retrieved a 5 gallon canister of gasoline. He turned to the barn. Anderson Berry was sprinting into the woods. David pulled his weapon and fired at the man. The storm was raging. The darkness and the whipping wind were enough to spare the man.

David knew chasing was not the correct course of action. He instead returned to the bunker. He doused the Dark Room with gasoline, making sure that no evidence would be left by the flames. Hopefully the burning of the barn and bunker would be enough to protect those he loved. David Madsen and Victoria Chase drove away as the barn burned.

 

The hooded figure watched as the body of Sean Prescott began bubbling and crackling in the flames.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

The Skype call had lasted for close to an hour now. The jerky image of David Madsen still flickered on Max’s computer monitor. Max and Chloe had listened to David’s story. It had been shocking and terrifying. The man had stayed stoic during the tale but his eyes were beginning to tear now.

                “We drove out of the woods and tried to make it back to Arcadia.” David said, “The road was blocked by debris. I tried to get to Joyce. I couldn’t make it in time. I failed.”

                David was crying now. His face was wracked with grief. He too had found Joyce Price’s body at the wreckage of the two whales diner.

                “Joyce is gone Chloe.” David said.

                “We know,” Chloe said. A few tears were falling down her cheeks, “We went to the Two Whales. We saw it all.”

                Max was rubbing Chloe’s back.

                Victoria Chase appeared in the little Skype video screen. She wrapped her arms around David trying to console the man.

                A smile crossed Max’s face. She reached out and touched the screen. She would need to make amends with her rival. She knew Victoria was a good person at heart.

                David and Chloe composed themselves.

                “I only went to FEMA to find the both of you.” David said. “We are at an old friend’s place."

                Max recalled the last time she had seen Andy. It had been in an alternate timeline, the man had died on the main street of arcadia bay, killed by shrapnel from the Vortex. She wondered if his fate had been similar.

                “What’s the plan?” Max asked. She hoped that David had one.

                “I’m not sure how far the corruption goes in Arcadia Bay.” David said. “I am going to stay and investigate, if only for a few days. Vivian Prescott could use a looking into.” David paused, “…I need to bury Joyce too.”

                Everyone was quiet.

                “Chloe I’m not sure—“  David started.

                Chloe interrupted her stepfather, “I know David. It’s too dangerous for us to come.”

The frustration in Chloe’s voice hurt Max’s heart. Max stretched her arms around Chloe from behind. Chloe thought about protesting the embrace but the comfort was what she needed.

“We’ll have our own funereal here too,” Max said, “A memorial.”

Chloe let out a sigh and nodded. Max’s idea was wonderful and soothing.

Victoria appeared on the webcam once again. She had an overly large green sweater on. She crouched down so that she would fit into the webcam.

                “I’m staying too.” Victoria said, “I need to know what happened to Nathan. Even if it only means finding his body, he deserves to be at rest for once.”  Victoria found herself in tears, even though she had not intended to shed them.

                The opening of a door could be heard from the Skype conversation.

                “Jimmy is back.” David said, “We should probably wrap up this conversation.”

                David laid out his plan in detail before ending the conversation. Max and Chloe were to buy new phones and destroy their old ones. Max wasn’t 100% confident in David’s counter-surveillance tactics but she decided that there was no harm in doing the things he asked. Sean Prescott had been a very powerful man. David confirmed that they would meet on Skype again in 3 days’ time.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

 

The Skype conversation ended.

 Chloe slumped back into Max’s little office chair. She spun in place to face Max who was now lying perpendicular across her bed. Chloe popped her socked feet up onto the corner of the bed. The little office chair strained under the weight but held strong.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Chloe said, “This whole thing is insane.”

“It’s par for the course at this point.” Max said. “I need to fucking shower.” The thought had been sitting in Max’s mind for a while now. She had not showered in over 24 hours at this point.

Max hopped up from her bed and crossed to a large dresser. She pulled open the top drawer. Comfort was going to be the goal. She pulled out a pair of black and pink plaid women’s cut boxers. She also retrieved an overly large nirvana T-shirt from the second drawer. The shirt was one of her father’s; she had always used it as pajamas. The words “Flower Sniffin, Kitty Pettin, Baby Kissin, Corporate Rock Whores” were the yellow words on the back of the shirt. The familiar nirvana dead face smiley was on the front.

Max turned to Chloe, “If you can find something that fits, feel free. We need to talk when I get out of the shower.”

Chloe nodded. She watched as Max left the room.

 

 

 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

 

                Chloe emptied her pockets out onto the large wooden writing desk. Keys, change, a few scraps of paper, and a pack of cigarettes. She picked the cigarettes up. She held the box to her nose and inhaled the smell. It was something she had grown to love. She tossed the little cardboard box into Max’s tiny metal wastebasket. She decided that smoking was no longer a good idea now that there was a reason to live.

                Chloe looked at the little pile of clothes she had picked out from Max’s dresser.

                “She took the biggest shirt for herself, fucking nerd.” Chloe mumbled to herself.

                Chloe peeled her tattered punk jeans off and raised the sasquatch shirt up and off of her body. Max had a small mirror on the back of her door. Chloe looked at herself. The three bullets on her necklace were dangling between her breasts. Chloe turned to look at her back side. She knew that she was attractive.

                Chloe had the realization that she wanted to look good for Max. It was the first time she had felt self-conscious in years. She felt silly and a bit embarrassed. Chloe peeled her black boy shorts off and pulled on a pair of Max’s boxers, they were plaid and pink. Chloe flipped her bra off and pulled on a white t-shirt with Mickey Mouse on it. The shirt was a size too small and the very bottom of the shirt showed a small sliver of Chloe’s midriff.

                “Good enough.” Chloe said.

Chloe bunched her clothes up into a ball and set it on the floor next to the bed. She climbed into the extra-large full size mattress pulling the thick blue comforter over her legs.

She waited for Max.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Max stepped into her room. Chloe was already half-tucked into bed. Max smiled at Chloe’s Mickey Mouse shirt.

                “Seems a bit small,” Max said. She rubbed the damp towel she was carrying across her forehead, wiping away the last bits of water from her hair.

                “I guess I have to buy an entire new wardrobe,” Chloe said. She hadn’t thought about it before, she had written all of her possessions off when they left Arcadia.

                The thought of spending an entire day just shopping with Chloe sounded like a dream to Max. Max sat down on her side of the bed. She began thoroughly running the towel through her head.

                “I could use some new kicks myself,” Max said, “Maybe you could punk me up a bit?”

                “Definitely.” Chloe said. “I’m thinking we keep you firmly planted in the 90’s, you were rocking that flannel pretty hard the other day.”

                Max tossed the damp towel onto the ground and pulled her legs up onto the bed. She sat cross legged facing Chloe. Chloe was lying on her side, her head was propped up in her hand, her elbow planted in a pillow.

                “You think we’re safe Max?” Chloe asked.

                Max had spent her entire shower pondering the question.

                “I don’t feel safe.” Max said.

 “I’ll feel better when David gets done with his investigation,” Chloe said, “David made it sound like someone else killed Sean Prescott.”

Max nodded in agreement. “Chloe,” Max said, “I’m not sure I’ll ever feel safe while I have this power. It’s so dangerous.”

“Can you still control time?” Chloe asked.

“I’m afraid to even try.” Max said, “I could cause another disaster.”

“What does it feel like?” Chloe asked, “When you control time I mean.”

Max tucked her legs into the comforter. She propped her head up in a similar fashion to Chloe’s. Her look was thoughtful. How could she explain it?

“It’s like, hmm. You know the feeling when one of your limbs falls asleep?” Max asked.

Chloe nodded.

Max continued, “It’s like that prickly feeling. First I get it in my hands. Then when I reach out in front of myself I can feel the time itself. You can mold it like taffy, maybe clay; it feels like you are touching something physically. The moment you bend it though it disappears.”

Chloe was fascinated. “What is it actually like when you travel through time?”

“The prickly feeling slowly spreads over your entire body.” Max explained, “The faster you rewind time the stronger the feeling becomes. Pushing too hard causes your nose to bleed. The prickling becomes pain after a while, that is why I can only do it for so long. It becomes too painful to concentrate and you lose grip on the time strand or whatever it is you are actually manipulating.”

                Max continued, “Yeah I can usually only get about 30 to 60 seconds of time back. The strangest part is that I can ‘teleport’ myself. When you manipulate time it is like the entire world is shifting around you. It is actually really scary at first, but you get used to it.”

                “Everything is scary the first time you do it.” Chloe said.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------

               

“Everything is scary the first time you do it.” Chloe said.

Max was suddenly aware of the tension. Had it been there a moment before? Maybe it was always there; maybe the chemistry of the moment was allowing Max to finally take notice. Max was unsure; she had been so focused on the explanation. Chloe was trying to hide it but Max knew the large girl was examining her. Max could feel Chloe’s gaze moving across her face and down her neckline. Max felt attractive under the wandering eyes. Max could see the contemplation in the forget-me-not colored eyes of her companion.

Max decided to see where this road led. She turned her head toward the ceiling, allowing the nape of her neck to show.

“Hey speaking of firsts,” Max said. She knew that she was going to derail the conversation. “This is the first time I’ve used this shampoo. What do you think of it?” Max leaned forward offering herself to the transfixed blue haired girl.

Chloe leaned forward and smelled Max’s hair.

“You always smell good.” Chloe said.

Max couldn’t stop herself.

Max pushed the warm comforter down. The cool night air pressed against her legs. Max pulled her knee up. She stretched the muscles of her calf. She let out an exaggerated sigh. Max ran her hand up and down her shin. Only the noise of her nails brushing against her skin could be heard in the room. Max focused, watching Chloe’s gaze as it wandered down to her legs.

Max could see the want, the need in Chloe’s gaze. It made her feel more confident than she had ever been.

“You can touch me.” Max said. Max stretched her arm out; reaching underneath the portion of comforter Chloe was under.  She found Chloe’s hand. Max brought the warm hand down onto her outstretched thigh.

“You never have to ask to touch me.” Max whispered.

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

“You never have to ask to touch me.” Max whispered.

It was the permission Chloe had been longing for. Chloe wanted to put her hands on Max. The moment the small girl had sat on the bed, running the towel through her short brown hair, Chloe knew how she wanted the night to continue.

Chloe had been afraid of touching the girl. Max had already been through so much, Chloe was afraid that her lust would be another burden. Maybe Chloe was just afraid of being rejected.

Chloe had not been rejected. She ran her hand up Max’s thigh. Chloe leaned forward as her hand reached Max’s hip. Chloe cupped her hand around the soft flesh.

Chloe pulled Max close. Max allowed herself to be pulled. Max was flat on the bed now. Chloe swung herself and the comforter over the small girl. Max’s thighs could fit snuggly between Chloe’s legs. Chloe rose up to her knees.

Max looked up at the girl straddling her. The comforter was draped around Chloe’s shoulders like a cape. Max began running her hands up and down Chloe’s legs. They were large and smooth, well cared for.

Chloe reached her arms to the bottom of the Mickey Mouse T-shirt she was wearing. Her fingers crept from the white shirt onto the soft pale flesh of Chloe’s’ belly.  She pulled the white shirt up and over her head. Chloe breasts fell as the shirt restraining them was peeled away. The comforter fell down around her as she completed the motion. She tossed the white shirt to the floor.

 Chloe brought her hands to her own ribs. She pushed her hands downward along her body. She knew that Max was watching, but she needed Max to see her. Chloe’s hands passed from her own pelvis down onto Max’s thighs.

Max was unsure of what to do. She was relieved that Chloe was taking charge.

“We better save the vintage Nirvana,” Chloe said. She pushed her hands upward along Max’s body. It was a slow and sensual maneuver. Max squirmed as Chloe’s hands pressed against her sides. Max had always been ticklish.  Chloe let her thumbs brush against Max’s nipples as her hands continued to glide.

Max hooked her arms around Chloe’s back as the large girl leaned in over her. Max pulled herself off of the bed enough to allow the large shirt to be removed. Chloe tossed the shirt to the floor.

Max dropped back to the bed. She brought one of her hands up from Chloe’s back to the back of Chloe’s head. Max brought the tall girl’s lips down onto her own. The kiss was thick. Neither wanted it to end. Chloe finally turned from Max’s lips, gasping for air. Both women we’re breathing heavily. There was a small strand of saliva dangling from their lips. Chloe brought her hand down to Max’s face and wiped the strand away.

“Gross dude.” Chloe said. Chloe leaned in and continued the kiss before Max could say anything. It was a messy kiss as Max had started giggling.

Chloe brought her mouth from Max’s lips to Max’s ear.

Chloe whispered, “I’m yours forever.” 

Chloe pulled her head back and looked Max in the eyes. She could see a bit of fear in Max’s freckled face.

Chloe asked, “Are you ready?”

Max could feel the familiar, warm, and wet ache between her legs. “Fuck me,” she said.

 

\--------------------------------------------------

 

“Fuck me,” Max said.

Chloe smiled. “It’s weird hearing you say that,” she said, “but it’s really fucking hot.”

Chloe brought herself down onto the mattress next to Max. Chloe was only partially leaning over the pretty freckled girl. The length of their bodies was in contact. A small layer of sweat had begun to glue them together.

Chloe ran her palm down the front of Max’s body.

Max began feeling anxious as Chloe’s hand passed between Max’s modest breasts. Goosebumps crawled across her skin as Chloe’s hand passed smoothly over Max’s flat stomach. Chloe’s hand stopped just short of the waistband to the pink and plaid boxers. How torturous. Max needed to be touched.

“Keep breathing,” Chloe said. She had a devilish smile on her face.

Max had indeed been holding her breath, caught in the anxiety of the moment. She let the air in. Max watched as Chloe’s hand dipped into her boxers. The image of the Chloe’s knuckles, one row at a time, crossing the portal of the silk waste band would always stay with Max. Max closed her eyes. Some portion of her mind wanted her to stop what was happening, to give in to the panic. It was too late.

Chloe’s fingers had reached their destination. Max pulled in air. It was a sharp gasp.

Chloe had a Cheshire grin. She was thrilled by Max’s pleasure. She felt Max’s body tensing up.

“Relax.” Chloe instructed, “Bend your knees.”

  Max bent her knees, thrusting her hips up to press herself against Chloe’s touch. Her body was responding to the circular, rubbing pressure her lover was providing. Max felt like she was losing control. It was so much better than she had ever imagined. It didn’t take long. All of Max’s fears and horrors of the week melted away to the pure white euphoria of an orgasm.


	5. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 5 - (Second Edit)

Max Caulfield was content. She had found herself on the edge of insanity repeatedly over the course of the week. It was hard to keep track of who you really were amidst shifting time, space, and reality. She needed a primal human experience to remind her of who she was. An experience to bring her persona back to the forefront. Losing your virginity is one of the most powerful moments of a person’s life. Usually an act of self-discovery, for Maxine, it was an act of self-salvation.

“Thank you Chloe,” Max said. She was surrounded by Chloe’s long sinewy arms.

The couple was lying in Max’s bed. It was the Caulfield Seattle home. Their sleeping attire, which had been mostly shed during the act of intimacy, wase now re-adorned.

“Yeah, I’m pretty good.” Chloe teased. She squeezed at Max’s ribs, tickling the smaller girl, making her squirm.

Max twisted, wriggling free of Chloe’s grasp. She escaped from the torment to her own side of the bed. The coolness of the unused portion of mattress was inviting. Max turned, laying downward, resting her chin in the crook of her elbow. She had a pillow bunched up in her arms.

Chloe stayed on her side, propping her head up on her hand. She examined Max's face. Max seemed at ease, maybe the most at ease Chloe had ever seen her.

Max noticed the assessing gaze of her companion. She waited for Chloe's eyes to lock with her own. Max held Chloe's stare with a heartfelt smile. Chloe grinned back, somewhat sheepishly.

Max let out a sigh before speaking, “I’m serious,” Max said, “I feel like a normal person again, doing normal people things. I'm not sure that could happen without you in my life.”

Chloe could feel her heart beating at Max's words.

“I wouldn't be able to do...well, ANY-things, if you hadn't come back” Chloe said, “You saved me from so much more than just a gun Max.”

Chloe's tone changed, it was more pensive, “It's strange.”

“What is?” Max asked.

“Life,” Chloe said, “Your life. My life. How they drifted apart... came back together.”

“Our life,” Max said. Her words were like stone, “It will be OUR life from now on.” She had a small reassuring smile on her face.

Chloe’s smile was quiet, confident. It was an embrace of a warm truth. An idea came to Chloe in this moment.

Max yawned. Chloe's idea would have to wait. The day had been long. Chloe yawned. She wondered why watching someone yawn made you yawn as well.

“Goodnight Max.” Chloe said. She reached down and pulled the comforter up and over the both of them.

“Goodnight Chloe.” Max said. Max's eyes finally closed. They seemed as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

Chloe stretched both of her arms up and behind her head. She stuffed a pillow beneath her neck. She listened to Max's breathing for several minutes. Content that Max was finally asleep Chloe felt herself drifting off. She let sleep take her at its leisure.

 

 

\------------------------------------

 

 

Max's eyes slipped open. She was in her room. Max was wrapped tightly in Chloe’s embrace. Max figured the larger girl must have ensnared her at some point during the night. Max felt the love and warmth emanating from Chloe’s body. It felt like a limitless source of power. Max imagined herself as _Superman_. Chloe was her warm and beautiful yellow sun, giving Max strength to move forward. Max felt content to lay there a moment longer in her lover's arms. She closed her eyes again.

Max felt something cold drip onto her neck. It was a startling and gross sensation. She reached her hand up to her neck to investigate the sudden wetness. She felt a sticky liquid. She brought her hand down in front of her eyes. The distinct red coloration of blood made Max's eyes widen in shock.

Max turned to face Chloe, pushing the larger girl's limbs out of the way. The image she saw was scarring. Blood was pouring from Chloe’s forehead. Chloe had been shot directly in the forehead. Her skin was white with the paleness of death. The sheets and pillow beneath Chloe's body had been thoroughly soaked with blood.

Max fought the urge to scream. She closed her eyes. She could not look at the gruesome scene anymore. Max drew a deep breath of air. _This is a dream,_ Max thought to herself.

She opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings again. Her room was gone. The bedroom was replaced by darkness.

Max was on her bed. The bed was now floating in a sea of nothing. Max felt like the bed was floating in space, only there were no stars or planets to light the pitch black.

Max pulled herself to the edge of her bed. She stared out into the thick and silent void. At first she was filled with a sense of dread, but after a few moments she let out a tired sigh. A flash from the darkness blinded Max. It had been a camera’s flash-bulb.

“Acceptance,” Mark Jefferson called out.

Max was unable to locate the source of the words. They were echoing out from the nothingness.

Jefferson's words continued, closer, more conversational, “What you did just there. That tired look. I've seen it on so many faces. That sad sigh.Too tired to fight back, broken. Whenever I would see that look on a model I knew that it was time to wrap up, the rest of the shoot would be too depressing.”

Max felt herself growing ill at Jefferson's disclosure. She imagined her own sad look spreading across the face of countless women, each realizing they were doomed, each captured in some new version of The Dark Room.

“Just leave me alone,” Max said. Her words echoed out into the void and came back in Kate Marsh's voice.

Max shook her head, frustrated, “I am going to wake up and start my new life with Chloe.” Max drew her dangling legs back up onto the bed. She pushed them back underneath her comforter. She closed her eyes, determined to sleep her way back to reality. She prayed that her defiance would be sufficient.

Max felt the edge of her bed dipping behind her. Someone had sat down. Max refused to turn her head to acknowledge the individual.

Mark Jefferson’s voice spoke once again, “Clearly I can't frighten you anymore, you've accepted this whole nightmare scenario rather quickly. Such tenacity.”

“Just stab me so I can wake up,” Max said, “I'm done being afraid.”

“Come on Max,” Jefferson said, “We're stuck together until you wake up. Let's at least enjoy the time together. Here let me make it up to you.”

Max heard Jefferson snap his fingers. She propped open her left eye enough to see what was happening. Max watched as Chloe's body disappeared. The blood stain, all of it vanished.

“There. Better?” Jefferson said, “Now how about you take a look at my camera. I know you're curious about it.”

_That bastard._ Max thought. She had been curious about the camera from the moment the flash-bulb blinded the room.

Max opened her eyes. She turned her body towards Jefferson. The man was sitting on the edge of her bed with a smile on his face. He had his usual business-casual attire on. He had a smile on his face. He reached out his hands, presenting a camera to Max.

Max took the camera. She examined it in detail. The little square camera was black and grey with chrome screws and buttons. A large circular flash-bulb was attached to the small device. The bulb was practically the size of the camera itself. Max ran her finger across the faux-leather pattern that covered the body of the instrument.

“I knew it would be impressive,” Max said, “A vintage Kodak Duaflex.”

“Wowser,” Max said, real jealously could be heard in her voice, “You even have an original British flash-bulb. “Ugh, I’ve always wanted one of these.”

“I’m glad you can tell the difference between the British model and the American one,” Jefferson said, “You were my best photography student, there’s no doubt about that. You had masterful knowledge about angles and lighting. Still in high school, you had some of the highest potential I’ve ever seen in a photography student.”

Max felt herself blushing at the praise. It was what she had always wanted Jefferson to tell her. Max's embarrassment at the praise faded as a somber expression crossed her face. She looked at Jefferson's face in detail, he was smiling and warm. She felt like crying.

“Why did you have to be evil?” Max asked. She had lost Jefferson too. Not the psychopath and killer, but the intelligent and warm photography professor. She had put so much time and effort into getting into Blackwell, partially because of Mark Jefferson, it had all been a waste.

“Maybe you’ll find out some day.” Jefferson responded. He took the camera from Max’s hands.

Max felt like she could see her own sadness reflected on Jefferson's face.

“Would you like to see some of my photos?” Jefferson asked.

“I’d love to see…” Max trailed off mid-sentence. There was something menacing in Jefferson’s eyes. They had become lizard-like, cold. Max could feel them darting sharply back and forth, evaluating her.

“What's the matter Max? You don't want to see?” Jefferson asked, “Here just take a look, I know you love my photography. You moved all the way to Arcadia Bay just for me.”

Jefferson thrust a picture in front of Max’s face. It was a photo of Max from the Dark Room. Max was close to unconsciousness in the photo. Her eyes and face were still, sedated, and almost lifeless. The photo was black and white, the contrast between Max’s black shirt and the white walls of the dark room studio were highlighted. Max knew the photo had merit, it made her feel nauseous.

“Disgust,” Jefferson said. He raised the Duaflex and snapped another photo as Max turned her face away from the photograph.

“You _should_ be disgusted in yourself” Jefferson said, “You were supposed to stay pure.”

Jefferson continued, “I mean look at this filth.” Jefferson said, he was now holding up a photo of Chloe's hand slipping into Max’s boxers. His tone was reproachful “This is not what I meant when I said I wanted to capture the end of innocence.”

Max ripped the photo out of Jefferson's hands, “ _That moment is mine,”_ Max said, “You could never shame me with it.”

Jefferson looked angry at the defiance.

Max let an impish grin cross her face,“You’re jealous.” Max said, “Admit it, you wanted me for yourself.”

Max’s voice was dark now, “Be honest Mark,” Max continued, “did you touch me when I was unconscious? You didn’t have to sedate me. In fact, you could still touch me now if you wanted to.” Max's hand darted out and took Jefferson’s hand. She brought it down against her chest, rubbing his palm against her breast.

Jefferson ripped his hand away. Max’s action had seemingly injured the man. He was clutching at his hand as if in pain. His eyes were furious.

“You’re just like Rachel Amber.” Jefferson hissed. His eyes were filled with rage.

A hooded figure came lunging out of the darkness holding a pillow. Max flinched at the unexpected assailant. The dark robed individual was inhumanly fast. It caught Max’s face beneath the bright white bag. Max couldn’t move. She flailed her arms in desperation, trying to take in breath any way she could. Her mind was beginning to fill with the color blue. She was being smothered.

 

\----------------------------

 

Max Caulfield’s eyes sprung open. Chloe Price’s forearm was pressed over Max’s mouth and nose. She was being smothered. The large, clumsy, blue-haired girl had rolled over in her sleep.

Max pulled Chloe's arm downward, away from her face. Max gasped, letting air into her lungs. Chloe stirred only slightly, unfazed by Max's movements. Max looked around her room. The nightmare was over. Everything seemed normal.

Max turned her attention to the girl who had woken her up. Chloe was bunched up against Max's side. Max could feel Chloe's legs tangled up with her own beneath the comforter. Max attempted to extricate herself from the mass of tangled limbs. She sat up in bed.

Chloe's arms tightened as Max rose, preventing the small freckled girl from escaping.

“Don’t leave me.” Chloe whispered. Max could see that Chloe was dreaming. It was Chloe's instinct that had preventing Max from leaving.

Max reached down and ran her hand along Chloe's arm. It was an attempt to wake the sleeping girl.

Chloe’s eyes opened. She took in a deep breath through her nostrils. Looking upwards she caught Max's eyes. Chloe's grip around Max's waist tightened even more. She pulled Max back down onto the bed.

“Good morning Ms. Price.” Max said. She leaned over and pushed Chloe's messy hair backwards. Max kissed Chloe on the lips.

The kiss ended. Max sat up as Chloe rolled away to her side of the bed.

“Last night was great.” Chloe said. She was on her stomach now, enjoying the cold feeling of fresh mattress.

“Yes it was.” Max said. She let a crooked smile cross her face.

Max stretched her arm to a nightstand by the bed. She grabbed her phone and checked the time. It was 10:26am, Sunday, October 13th.

“David said we should get new phones.” Max said, “It’s 10:30.”

“We could get burner phones, like in _The Wire_.” Chloe suggested.

“Ok,” Max said. It sounded like a good plan. “What do we do with the rest of our lives after that though?”

Both women were at a loss for ideas.

“My parents are both at work until three.” Max said, “We could do whatever. Maybe even nothing at all.”

“Fuckfest 2013?” Chloe teased. She put on her best sexy face.

Max narrowed her eyebrows. She was actually considering the proposition.

“Oh my god you Seattle girls are so easy.” Chloe laughed. She hopped out the bed, tossing a pillow in Max’s direction.

Max knocked the pillow away, embarrassed, Chloe had seen right through her. “You’re going to get it.” Max said. An excited smile was on her face. Max threw the pillow back at Chloe.

Chloe dodged out of the way. “You already gave it to me last night.” Chloe quipped. She grabbed the sheets Max was still sitting on. She pulled them up and off of the bed, forcing Max to leap up to her feet. “Let’s go Caulfield; we don’t have time to flirt all day. I need a shower.”

 

 

\---------------------------------

 

Max descended the staircase into the living room. Chloe was sitting on the leather sofa.

Chloe was wearing an overly large, red, pocket T-shirt. She had a large pair of men’s carpenter Jeans on. Both pieces of clothing, being Ryan Caulfield's, had old paint stains on them. The jeans were tightened down by a large leather belt with a silver square buckle.

Chloe watched as Max descended the stairs. She had on a plain white women’s V-neck t-shirt. She was wearing a black hoodie with grey thermal lining over top of the simple shirt. Max had a pair of tight jeans on. Her messenger bag was strung over her shoulder.

“I feel like I’m wearing a tent.” Chloe said.

Max snickered. “We’ll buy some clothes while we’re out. Mom left a note, she’ll be home at three like usual. She left us a hundred bucks for lunch.”

“What does Vanessa do?” Chloe asked. Chloe knew that $100 was a lot for lunch money.

“Mom is a realtor,” Max said, “Dad runs his own construction company. _Little Dublin Construction._ He builds and she sells.”

“I hid the rest of the handicapped fund,” Max said, changing the topic, “It is tucked away in my copy of _Flowers for Algernon._ ”

“I’ve got like 400 bucks,” Chloe shrugged, “Should be enough for whatever.” Chloe pulled her keys from her pocket and jingled them. It was time to go.

 

\------------------------------------

 

“I know the perfect place,” Max said, “A friend works there.”

Max had visited _Pacific Vintage_ on a weekly basis when she was living in Seattle. Not only did the store have a collection of used clothing and accessories, there was a wide selection of old photography equipment, painting supplies, and general second-hand junk.

Max guided Chloe into downtown Fremont; it was a short drive from the Caulfield home. The city had seen many changes in the recent years. Fremont had been a hub for artists and punks for many years, a counterculture haven. Nowadays the little mom and pop art and coffee houses were tucked in between large tech start-ups.

_Pacific Vintage_ was one of the mom and pops. Max pointed to a parking structure. Chloe pulled her truck into the large concrete building. The fee was 3 dollars an hour. Chloe complained that it was unreasonable. Max convinced her it was a fair price.

“I’m the fairest Price of all.” Chloe said with a flourish.

Max’s response was inspired, “I’m pretty sure that pun was…. Un-Cauldfield.”

A slight shiver ran down Chloe’s spine, “Max. That was painful. You should feel bad.”

Max looked deeply pleased with herself.

The duo exited from the parking structure and made their way out on to the main street. The buildings were a miss-mash of large commercial properties and smaller hole in the wall shops, businesses, and stands. The cool day had guaranteed a reduction of the usual crowd of people present. Max was thankful; the street could often be packed on a regular Sunday.

“I’m hungry as hell.” Chloe remarked. She was eying up a hotdog vendor at the end of the street.

“Clothes first,” Max said, “Then I have a good spot I want to take you for lunch.”

“Max has a plan. Nice,” said Chloe.

The couple walked for about ten minutes north. _Pacific Vintage_ was a green painted building wedged between a Chinese restaurant named _Lums_ and an old video store. The video store had a large gray elephant head as its symbol. _Elephant Video_.

Max pulled the door open and stepped into _Pacific Vintage_ , Chloe in tow.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

“Oh no, you take your ass right back out the door.” Kristen said.

The woman behind the long glass counter was named Kristen Giroux. She was 24 years old. Max hadn’t seen her since leaving Seattle to return to Arcadia Bay. Kristen was taller than Max, but shorter than Chloe. She had a round face with thick black glasses on. The woman had large beaming green eyes which popped from her prescription lens. Her hair was charcoal black and done up in a pony-tail. She had a voluptuous figure. A Marilyn Monroe type. She was wearing a black shirt underneath her trade-mark, purple, button up sweater, which was always left open.

Max knew she was going to receive an earful.

“You can’t just drop off the face of the planet.” Kristen said. Her tone seemed playful but the anger was very real, “I see you once a week for like 3 years, clockwork, and you just up and disappear. That’s the definition of rude right there.”

Chloe was looking around the inside of the small shop. It was filled with hangers. Each rack of clothing seemed to come from a different era. None of the sizes or styles seemed organized at all. There were several glass cases which contained an odd assortment of what seemed to be run of the mill junk: cigar boxes, baby shoes, a jack in the box, a series of knives, a bottle cap collection. One of the cases seemed dedicated to vintage photography equipment. _A Max Caulfield magnet,_ Chloe thought.

Chloe felt like she should be defending Max, but listening to Kristen vent was cathartic. After all, Max had done the same thing to Chloe years ago.

Max felt shamed. Chloe's silence was an extra layer of guilt. Max's guilt began snowballing, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about Arcadia Bay.

Max started to apologize, “Kristen I’m so sorry...”

Kristen could see that Max was tormenting herself about something. She had seen that look on Max's face before.

“Hey don’t worry about it sweetie, I'm sorry, I just wanted to razz you a bit.” Kristen said, “I shouldn't even be joking... everything you must of gone through the last few days.”

Kristen hopped down off of her tall stool and made her way around the glass counter.

“It's good to see you again Max,” Kristen said. She wrapped her arms around the thin girl. Max buried her face into the large woman's shoulder. She tried to say something but her face was muffled by the oversized and scratchy purple sweater, her words arrived as a muffle.

Kristen released Max. Max's eyes were beginning to tear up.

“What did you say now?” Kristen asked.

Max answered, “I said it is really good to see you again.”

Chloe stepped forward and touched Max's shoulder. Max turned to look Chloe in the eyes. It was enough comfort to stop Max's tears from dropping.

“I doubt that all those tears are just from seeing me again, you've been through some shit.” Kristen said.

“It's bad Kristen, an entire sewers worth.” Max said, “Can we talk about it for a bit?”

“You know I'm bad with emotional trauma...” Kristen said, “I'll start a pot of coffee and call Fernando. He's better at that sort of thing and will definitely want to see you again.” Kristen stepped back behind the counter. She produced an old looking french press from an out of place orange cabinet attached to the wall.

“Thanks Kristen.” Max said. The tension fell from her face.

“You two don't have to just stand there and watch me press coffee.” Kristen said, “Have a seat.” With that Kristen pointed to an old wood laminate table that sat in the center of the store. It was round and covered with a white table cloth. Next to the table sat an amusing assortment of chairs: A large wicker, A wooden rocking chair, a plastic banded folding chair, and a doctor's stool. Max had always taken the large wicker chair. A rush of nostalgia came back to her. She hadn't been gone that long from Seattle, but her experiences in Arcadia Bay made her feel like she had been gone for decades. How many Fridays had she spent here drinking coffee, chatting with strange customers, idling her time away?

Max flopped down into the wicker chair. She watched Chloe first evaluate the chair options and then sink down onto the rocking chair.

“This place is cool.” Chloe said. She was looking around at the walls of the store lined with various types of clothing.

Max watched as Chloe looked around the store. Chloe was rocking gently in the wooden chair.

“I should have called you.” Max said. She was leaning forward in the wicker chair now, “I love you Chloe.”

Chloe was taken by surprise. Max's sudden declaration made her blush. She was unsure of what she had done to warrant it.

“I love you too Max.” Chloe said, “I don't want you to feel guilty....” She paused, thinking about how to phrase her words. “I don't want you to feel guilty about anything. Last week or any time in the past."

Max listened.

Chloe continued, “I have decided that I'm glad you didn't call me back then. If you had stayed in touch everything would be different. We might not have fell in love. I might have never met Rachel. Even though she is gone I would never trade my time with her for anything. It's part of who I am.” Chloe said, “It's going to be hard, but this is where I want to be, with you, trying to scrape together a future. No regrets, from either of us, that is the only way this is going to work.”

“Okay then.” Max said, she had a sad smile on her face, “No more regrets.”

Kristen called out from behind the counter, “Black coffee still Max?”

“Yes” Max called back.

“How about you SLC Punk?” Kristen called to Chloe.

“Hella cream and sugar.” Chloe answered back.

Kristen arrived at the little table moments later with two cups of coffee. She handed Max a little white mug with the outline of a little cartoon rocket ship on the side. She then handed Chloe a lidless neon green thermus. Both girls thanked her for the coffee. Kristen then returned behind the counter poured herself a large silver mug of coffee. She returned to the table with her coffee and a small mysterious black box.

Kristen sat down on the doctor's stool, “Well Max, since you're so bad at introducing people I figured it would be a good opportunity to put my skills to the test.”

Max looked fondly at the small black box. She couldn't help but smiling.

“Gwyneth Paltrow's head better not be in there.” Chloe said, eying the strange container.

Kristen smiled. She popped the box open and produced a small glass sphere. It was attached to a small black base. Kristen took the delicate looking object out of the box and placed it gently onto the table cloth. She closed the small black wooden box and placed it down by her feet.

Chloe looked at the crystalline ball. It reminded her of a snow globe. Her eyes finally wandered to Kristen. Kristen was waiting for Chloe's eyes to connect with her own.

“You'll have to forgive my manners,” Kristen said, “I was hoping that Max wouldn't introduce us, this is a far more fun way to get to know someone.”

Max interjected, “I can't believe you still do this shit.” She turned to Chloe, “You don't have to do this if you don't want to.”

“Don't listen to that one,” Kristen said, she had put on, what Chloe assumed was, a Louisiana accent, her words had become slow and deliberate, “Max is a false prophet. It's been proven time and time again.”

“Now that's a sexy accent.” Chloe said. She rubbed her hands together, this was going to be exciting.

“This is my accent for seducing the manfolk.” Kristen said. She reached down beneath the table and produced a large green boa. She draped it around her neck and shoulders, “My name is Lady Kristenella. I am going to attempt read your mind.”

Max took a long sip of her coffee. She was trying to hide her smile. Chloe shook her head at Kristen's lavish movements.

“This isn't some thing where my wallet goes missing half-way through is it?” Chloe asked. She had a skeptical look on her face. She took a long sip from her thermus.

“Usually a consultation with someone as talented and in-tune with the universe as myself could cost thousands of dollars,” Lady Kristenella responded, “But I am willing to waive the fee for friends of friends. Aren't you the fortunate one?”

Chloe's smile was increasing, “I feel so lucky! It's like I've won a small lottery. Tell me what I need to do.”

Lady Kristenella took a deep breath. She looked Chloe directly in the eyes. Kristen's eyes narrowed, her green irises were bright, highlighted by her strong prescription. Chloe felt her smile fading. Lady Kristenella had captured her with a look. Chloe felt compelled to stare at the woman all day.

“I need you to believe in me.” Lady Kristenella said.

The words hung on the air.

The silence was broken as Max snorted into her coffee mug, choking on the hot liquid. A few droplets of coffee fell onto her white v-neck.

“You're so full of shit.” Max said, clearing her throat, “Oh my god.”

“Hush.” Lady Kristenella hissed at Max. She turned back to Chloe and extended her hands out across the table, “Would you please put your palms out for me?”

Chloe pulled the rocking chair forward. She laid her arms out across the table, palms upward.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Lady Kristenella asked, “No. Let me rephrase that _I am going to touch you_. Look me in the eyes while I do so.”

Chloe watched as Kristen reached her arms out across the table. Kristen placed her fingertips gently in the center of Chloe's outstretched palms. Chloe tried her best to keep her eyes focused on Kristen's eyes.

Kristen pushed her fingertips up Chloe's palms and onto the balls of Chloe's hands. Kristen massaged her fingers traveled up Chloe's wrists and forearms. Chloe shivered as goosebumps ran along the paths where Kristen's fingertips tread. Chloe enjoyed the feeling. Kristen's touch was nice.

Max watched, unsure of what Kristen was trying to accomplish. Max's eyes narrowed. She was shocked at her own jealousy. It was the first time that she had felt it in this way. She knew it was irrational but watching Kristen rub her fingertips along Chloe's forearm made Max feel uncomfortable. Max looked up from Chloe's arms to Kristen's face. Kristen was staring into Max's eyes. Max scowled at her. Kristen smiled.

Kristen pulled her hands away from Chloe's outstretched arms.

“You may put your arms down,” Lady Kristenella said.

Chloe obliged and pulled her arms away.

“I will now use my crystal ball to divine information about you.”

Kristen brought her hands to the crystal ball. She placed her hands on the ball and shut her eyes. Chloe and Max waited expectantly. Several moments passed but nothing happened.

Kristen finally spoke, “I almost forgot.” She flipped the crystal ball over. There was a small black switch sitting in the center of the ball. Next to the switch sat a label that read: Made in China.

Kristen tried to maintain a serious face, but her smile bled through before speaking, “I would like to let the two of you know that my divine power has been brought to you this afternoon by Duracell. Duracell has in no way paid for this tacit endorsement.”

Max rolled her eyes. Chloe found her self giggling under her breath.

“I'm pretty sure that is a Christmas ornament dude.” Chloe said, evaluating the 'Crystalline Ball', “I think there is a pine tree in there.”

Max looked closer at the little glass bauble. The center of the ball had a small crystalline Christmas tree.

“Excuse me.” Lady Kristenella retorted, “That is a pagan tree of life, an ancient symbol of power.”

Kristen flipped the switch and the little glass bauble exploded into color. It began pulsating through the various colors associated with Christmas. She righted the object and placed both of her palms onto the smooth surface of the glass. She turned her eyes towards Chloe once more.

Kristen closed her eyes. Her head turned left and then right. It was as if she was hearing voices, cast from an unseen dimension only perceivable by her.

“Your name is Zoe Price.” Kristen said.

Max laughed. Chloe seemed indignant.

Kristen ignored their reactions and continued reading,“You are nineteen years old. You love pirates. Your taste in music is bad, but not as bad as your taste in men...” Kristen paused, “...or should I say your taste in women?”

Max rolled her eyes. She wondered how Kristen had figured it out. Was it glaringly obvious that Chloe and herself were 'together'?

“You especially have an affinity for freckled hipster girls that break your heart.” Kristen said.

“You're good at this.” Chloe said.

“You've had to handle quite a bit of loss in your life.” Kristen said.

Chloe looked down at her mug. She ran her thumb along the edge of her thermus. Max reached across the tablecloth and grabbed Chloe's hand. They squeezed each others hand's tight. It was reassuring.

“Yes I have.” Chloe said. She stared at the rim of her thermus.

Kristen let her hands fall from the glass bauble. She had a guilty look on her face. She spoke, Lady Kristenella's accent was gone, “I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I said that.” She paused, taking in the downtrodden faces of her companions, “You two seem so sad. I guess it just slipped out subconsciously. I was going to try and keep it fun. This is why I need more practice. I'm sorry Zoe.”

Chloe shook her head, “Don't sweat it.” She reached her hand across the tablecloth. Kristen hesitated briefly before extending her own. “My name is Chloe. It's nice to meet you.”

Kristen matched Chloe's sad smile with one of her own, “It's very lovely meeting you, **Chloe**.”

“How did you almost know my name?” Chloe asked. The handshake ended.

“How could I not? I am friends with Max Caulfield.” Kristen responded, “The first year I knew Max you were pretty much all she would talk about. How much she missed you, how she wished you were here, mostly about how guilty she felt about having to leave you behind. Eventually Fernando and myself had to start rolling our eyes at the mention of your name.”

Chloe turned to look at Max. Max was blushing deep red. She turned away from Chloe's gaze, embarrassed that Kristen had exposed her so easily.

Max exhaled deeply before turning back to look at Chloe, “I told you that I never forgot. I meant it.”

Chloe looked away from Max. Her frustration was clearly visible. Chloe could feel the absolute love welling up in her stomach but at the same time the hurt of Max's abandonment came flooding back. Chloe took a deep breath, trying to push away dark thoughts from the past.

Kristen was running her hands along the crystal ball, the personal nature of the conversation had started to make her feel somewhat uncomfortable.

Chloe would never be able to tell you why she did it, but she reached out and placed her palm squarely on the round glass object.

The soft pulsating glow of the Christmas decoration turned from red to bright, brilliant blue. Chloe stared into the object, transfixed. The hue and brilliance of the orb intensified further. Chloe wanted to pull her hand from the object but she could not find the willpower within herself to do so. She brought her other hand to the orb, touching it on two sides at once.

Kristen's hands clamped down over top of Chloe's. Her grip was hard, fierce, almost violent in nature. Chloe spasm'd in pain. It was as if Kristen was trying to crush her hands.

Chloe let out a gasp from the pain. Max stood up from the wicker chair, pushing the seating backwards against a rack of clothes. She was unsure of what was happening.

“Kristen let go.” Max demanded. She looked at her friend, trying to figure out what was happening. Max was terrified at what she saw. Kristen's eyes had rolled into the back of her head. Her eyes were inhumanly wide, pure white. Kristen's round shaped glasses magnified the effect. To Max , Kristen's eyes had become two brightly glowing white moons. The brilliant blue orb reflected in the glass of Kristen's lens, two ghost irises in the dead lifeless stare.

Kristen opened her mouth, her voice came out as a sickening croaking noise, “You've been fated to die.”

Chloe jerked her arms. She was wrenching, trying viciously to free herself from Kristen's crushing grip.

“Kristen stop!” Max yelled. She put her arm out and tried to pry Kristen's hand from Chloe's.

Max's fingertips brushed against the cold smooth surface of the glass.

Darkness spread across the surface of the glass. It originated from where Max's flesh had made contact. A squid injecting ink into the water is the only apt comparison. Black clouds of darkness spread from Max's fingertips across the small glass bauble.

A low, dull humming noise began to pour out from the bauble.

Max felt her neck muscles clamping, turning her head unwillingly towards the glass ball. A searing, burning pain flooded Max's mind. She felt her eyes rolling into the back of her head. The pain was too much to bear, she passed out, falling backwards into the wicker chair.

Kristen let out a long, gross sucking noise, trying to breath in air. She fell backward off of the stool and onto the ground, releasing Chloe's hands.

Chloe stood, she did not remove her hands from the small crystalline bauble. She leaned forward looking at the darkness covered orb.

A series of images appeared in the darkness of the orb. A deer, a butterfly, a black obelisk, a knife. The orb began humming even louder. Chloe could feel that it was starting to move from the vibrations. Another series of images came across the dark orb: An angry picture of a face, a series of car accidents, a large crag in the earth. Chloe put it together, she was seeing destruction. Seattle had fallen into the earth, a massive pit opening beneath the very foundations of the city. Terror ran through Chloe's body. She felt nauseous, the spit began coating her mouth, a cold sweat penetrating her skin.

The orb cracked violently, black steam began shrieking from the glass. Chloe knew it was going to explode. She turned towards Max. The girl was unconscious in the wicker chair. Chloe leapt over top of Max protecting her face and torso from the incoming eruption.

There was another vicious cracking followed by a horrifying sucking sound. A few seconds of silence lingered in the room before the shockwave hit. The deafening noise made Chloe flinch and bear downward, squeezing Max against herself.

Chloe let out a scream as shards of glass penetrated her back. She stayed still for several moments, afraid to move. She could feel the blood beginning to dribble down her back.

Chloe heard the ringing of the bell above door, signifying that someone had entered.

“Miss please don't move!” A voice called from the doorway of _Pacific Vintage._

 

 


	6. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 6 - (Second Edit)

Chloe let out a low moaning noise. It was the howl of an injured animal. Fernando Torres had heard the deafening noise created by the shockwave. He had arrived at Pacific Vintage just in time to witness the explosion of the glass bauble from the foyer window.

Fernando was standing in the doorway of Pacific Vintage now. His best friend, Kristen Giroux was unconscious on the floor. He was looking at a blue-haired woman howling in pain. Her back was covered in blood.

The young man had dealt with emergencies before. He suppressed his initial urge to panic.“Miss please don't move!” Fernando called out. He fought the urge to sprint to Kristen. He needed to make sure this blue-haired stranger did not injure herself further.

“Please help me.” Chloe called out. She was afraid to turn her torso too far. She could feel the glass sticking out of her back. Even in her injured state Chloe was focused on Max. She began running her hands over every inch of Max's body, looking for any injuries.

“I'm going to remove your shirt.” Fernando said. He had arrived at Chloe's side.

Chloe did not respond. She kept her focus on Max, trying to determine if the unconscious girl was still breathing. “Please help her.” Chloe begged. Her eyes were beginning to fill with panic based tears.

Fernando put his hand on Chloe's shoulder, “I will help you both. I need you to listen to me right now. I am going to remove your shirt. I need to know if I can move you. I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that you will not move. Take a deep breath.”

Chloe took a deep breath, “Remove it. Hurry.”

Fernando produced a pocket knife from his back right pocket. Chloe felt his hand slip beneath Ryan Caulfield's tattered red pocket T-shirt. She heard the distinct noise of fabric being sliced. Suddenly she could feel the cool air hitting her back.

“Cuts. Scrapes mostly.” Fernando evaluated, “There is one large shard. It is bleeding quite badly. I will contact the clinic.” Fernando reached into his pocket, attempting to find his phone.

“Don't!” Chloe yelled.

Fernando flinched at the girl's stern command.

“Stand me up.” Chloe demanded.

Fernando put an arm around Chloe's waist. He hoisted the tall girl to her feet, making sure she was unable to put any pressure on her back. Chloe wobbled for a moment, she let her weight rest on the table. Fernando kept both of his hands on her making sure she would not fall.

Fernando turned to look at the unconscious girl.

“Max?!” Fernando was shocked and surprised to see his friend.

Chloe pointed towards Max, “Help her.”

Fernando went to Max's side. He moved her shoulders gently trying to wake her. She had a river of blood pouring from her nostrils.

Max began to stir at Fernando's touch. Her eyes opened a sliver.

“Fernando?” Max whispered. Seeing her friend again so soon after returning to consciousness was surprising.

“Don't move,” Fernando commanded, “Try to breathe deep.” He wished that he could give her better advice.

Max's eyes wandered from Fernando to Chloe, “Chloe,” Max cooed.

“I'm okay Max,” Chloe reassured her. She was partially reassuring herself. She could feel the blood trickling onto the tablecloth.

“Kristen?” Max asked.

Fernando stood and turned away from Max's seat. He walked around the small table. Kristen Giroux was lying on the ground. Fernando bent down and touched Kristen on the arm. Kristen's eyes snapped open.

“Are you hurt?” Fernando asked.

Kristen rose to the sitting position. She ran her hands along her own body.

“I'm okay. At least I think I'm okay.” Kristen said. Fernando stood, he stepped behind Kristen and bent himself down at the knee. Fernando lifted Kristen to her feet, making sure to avoid the glass scattered on the floor

Kristen bent down and up-righted her doctor's chair. She sat down and looked at the other women in the room. No one seemed like they were in particularly good shape.

“You contacted the clinic?” Kristen asked. Her eyes wandered to shirtless Chloe. A large sliver of glass was impaled in her lower back. Blood was oozing out of the wound and onto the tablecloth. Kristen felt her stomach turning at the sight of the blood.

“Please don't call anyone.” Chloe said, her breath was heavy, she was trying to eschew the pain with breathing, “We kind of need to stay off the radar.”

Fernando's eyes narrowed as he evaluated Chloe. She tried her best to smile at the man. Fernando could see the pain on Chloe's face. More importantly he could see the fear behind her eyes. He felt the absolute need to help her.

“Kristen if it looks like you or Max need the clinic I will drive you.” Fernando said, “For now I will take...” Fernando paused.

“Chloe.” Chloe spoke her name.

Fernando nodded,“I will take Chloe to the packaging table in the back and look at her wound. Let's pray that I can make it stop bleeding.”

Max stirred in the wicker chair. Her head was on fire; She let out a groan before speaking,“Thank you Fernando.”

Fernando circled the table arriving at Chloe's side.

“You are a tall one.” Fernando remarked. He looked Chloe up and down for a moment, “Grab me around the neck.” She put her arms around his neck.

“Walk slowly with me.” Fernando instructed.

They took it a step at a time. Chunks of glass could be heard crunching beneath their feet as they went. Chloe felt uneasy as Max left her sight. The two made their way to the back of the room. There was an old metal door covered in cracked, peeling white paint. A blue “employees only” sign sat squarely in the center of the door.

The hallway beyond was poorly lit and cluttered with boxes of old clothing. Fernando guided Chloe past a small unisex bathroom. Their destination sat at the end of the tight brick corridor.

The pair limped through an open office door. The room was large. There were shelves with packing labels on them. _Pacific Vintage_ was filling orders by phone and internet. There was a large oak table with packing materials and small boxes on it. Fernando pushed all of the materials to the floor without a second thought.

“Kristen has taken her act too far.” Fernando said. The words were mostly rhetorical. Fernando tapped the table with the palm of his hand, “I want you to lay down flat on your stomach.”

Chloe brought her hands up behind her head. She unclasped her necklace and wrapped it around her right hand. She brought one knee at a time up onto the table. Fernando held her hand as she laid parallel with the flat surface. She shivered once.

“It's cold.” Chloe said, “God damn.”

Fernando turned from the table. There was a series of metal shelves. The top shelves contained boxes that were ready to be shipped. The bottom shelf contained useful products that any business might need, cleaning agents, garbage bags, excess signage. Fernando retrieved a small space heater from the bottom shelf. He plugged it into a nearby wall socket. It was a tall, vertical heater. He turned it on 'high' and fashioned it in Chloe's direction. Chloe let out a sigh as the warm air billowed over her exposed sides and back.

Chloe watched as Fernando crossed to the farthest side of the room. There was a small medical kit on the wall. It was the first time that Chloe had a good chance to really look at the man. He was tall. Maybe only a few inches taller than Chloe herself. Fernando had dark black hair. It was parted on either side of his head in large floppy swaths. The sides of his head were shaved down. He was wearing a jet black letterman jacket. The jacket was left open, underneath was a simple white cotton shirt. He was wearing green army fatigue pants. His hairstyle reminded Chloe of a military cut that had been left to grow out on its own. Chloe wondered if he had been in the military.

Fernando retrieved the square kit from its holder on the wall. Her turned and made his way back towards Chloe. His complexion was pale, much paler than his thick, Spanish accent would lead you to believe. His features were sharp, defined, and well proportioned. Chloe needed to know the color of his eyes.

“Your name is Fernando right?” Chloe asked, “Max mentioned you before.”

“How rude of me.” Fernando said, “I asked for your name and I never gave mine in return.”

Fernando bent down with his knees so that he was eye level with Chloe.

“My name is Fernando Torres. I am sorry that we had to meet this way.”

His eyes were light brown, luminous. There were flecks of green splashed in at various spots. Chloe could not help but smile at the handsome face, _how could Max leave such an absolutely gorgeous boy like this behind?_

“Chloe Price.” Chloe said.

“I am going to take a look at your back now, Chloe Price.” Fernando said. His face seemed quite serious, “I need you to tell me if you have any blood based illness. Aids, Hepatitis, things of that nature.”

“I'm clean.” Chloe said, she grinned, “I'm a good girl.”

“We will see.” Fernando said, his smile was wry, “Most good girls do not have the need to be 'off the radar'.”

Chloe fell silent, unsure of what to say. She changed the topic.

“Do you have something I could rest my head on?” Chloe asked.

“Oh, of course.” Fernando said.

He stood and turned to the shelf behind him. He opened a package of simple cotton undershirts and handed two of them to Chloe. She took the shirts and balled them up into the shape of a pillow. She brought both of her hands forward above her shoulders and hugged the shirts. She laid her head down between her arms onto the soft cotton.

Satisfied that she was comfortable Fernando put on a pair of purple nitrile gloves from the medical kit. He ran his hand along Chloe's back. Chloe let out a small grunt of pain as his fingers came close to the shard.

“How bad is it Doc,” Chloe said, “Lay it on me.”

“It could be worse. Most of these are superficial.” Fernando said. His words were meant to be reassuring. He eyed the large shard. It made him nervous.

Fernando wiped Chloe’s back with a disinfecting towelette. She jolted at the first contact with the cold and wet object. Fernando was careful not to rub excess blood back into any of the wounds.

I am going to bandage up a few of these smaller scratches before I fix the puncture.” Fernando said.

“Have you done this before, you seem like you have had training or something?” Chloe asked. She had turned her head on the pillowed shirts, facing Fernando as he worked.

Fernando smiled. He continued to clean the injuries as he spoke, “I come from a large family of girls. One of them is always injured. My mother taught me how to sew. Flesh and fabric fold the same when put under a needle.”

Chloe winced at the word ‘needle.' Fernando began bandaging one of the scrapes. He soaked a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol found in the medical kit.

“It is much cheaper to mend things yourself.” Fernando said, “We never could afford the doctor.”

Chloe let out a deep breath, “I know what that’s like.” She flinched at the burning sensation of the alcohol.

Fernando continued, “It wasn’t always like that. It was better when my father was still alive…”

Chloe could see that Fernando was focused on her back. He was quiet and intense. The pain at the mention of his father was apparent. He blinked several times in a row. Chloe turned her head away, unable to keep thoughts of William away.

Fernando felt embarrassed to be spilling such intimate details to someone he had just met. He knew that talking would keep her calm, “You learn to do everything by yourself. It is a struggle sometimes, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.” Fernando procured a pair of tweezers from the medical kit. He disinfected them with another towelette. “I basically raised four little girls by myself.”

“What about your mother?” Chloe asked. She turned her head back to face him.

“She was busy working two jobs.” Fernando answered. He let out a short breath of air from his nose, “She still is I guess.”

Fernando paused, “It is time.” He held up the large pair of tweezers.

Chloe found herself breaking out into a cold sweat at the sight of the metal instrument.

“Oh fuck.” Chloe said.

“I suggest you close your eyes and brace yourself.” Fernando suggested, “Do not bite your tongue. I am going to pour alcohol onto the cut before and after removing the shard.”

“You don't sound confident.” Chloe said, she began breathing heavily.

“I'm not.” Fernando said.

Chloe turned her head, took a series of deep breaths, and braced herself for the pain.

Fernando placed his hand squarely on Chloe’s back, just beneath the nape of her neck. With his other hand he readied the little bottle of alcohol.

“Do it.” Chloe said. Fernando began to pour. The searing pain of alcohol was vicious. Chloe felt her toes curling up from the pain. Her body let out an involuntary spasm followed by a gasp. Fernando pushed her body back down. He was firm and in control.

Chloe felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. Maybe she had lost more blood than originally thought. Maybe the pain was just that powerful. She let it happen. Chloe passed out. Fernando figured it was for the best that she was unconscious for the next part. He prepared the tweezers.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

Max felt her stomach turning. She was watching blood trickle down Chloe's back. She watched as one of her best friends, Fernando Torres, shepherded the injured girl into the back room of _Pacific Vintage_.

Max heard a loud crunching coming from her right side. Kristen had pulled a cheap plastic banded folding chair close to where Max was sitting. The remains of the crystalline bauble were being loudly ground with each step Kristen took.

“Max are you okay sweetheart?” Kristen asked.

Max felt a cool paper towel brush against her hand. She turned her head at the unexpected feeling. She looked down at her hand. Kristen was gentle, rubbing away a stain of blood from the back of Max's hand. _That feels nice,_ Max thought. She looked up at her friend. Kristen had earned the title of 'best friend' in the years that Max was away from Chloe. Kristen paused, looking up to meet Max's gaze.

Tears began pouring down Max's face.

“I'm not okay,” Max said. Her face contorted into pure grief, “Kristen. I'm not okay.”

Max was too pitiful. Kristen felt her heart wrenching in her chest. Tears began to fall down from beneath her glasses. She stood up and extended her hand to Max. Max grabbed the extended hand and allowed herself to be pulled from her wicker throne. She felt glass crunching underneath her soles.

Max found herself engulfed in Kristen's large arms. Max pushed her face hard into Kristen's shoulder. Max wrapped her arms around Kristen's midsection. She couldn't stop herself from squeezing with all of her strength. Max physically vented her frustration, pain, and fear into her friend.

Kristen was strong. She waited until she could feel the tension leaving Max's body before loosening her own grip.

“You're okay.” Kristen said, “We'll make it okay again.” Kristen released Max from her grip. She held both of Max's shoulders with her hands. She bent down a bit to get a good look at the girl's face.

“I don't know if I can make it okay again.” Max said. She couldn't look Kristen in the eye.

Kristen still had the damp paper towel in her hand. She brought it up to Max's face and began wiping the blood away from Max's nostrils.

“Max sit.” Kristen suggested. She pointed to the banded folding chair.

Max sat down. The banding bent pleasantly beneath her. Kristen pulled the doctor's stool close and sat.

“I hurt people Kristen. Killed people,” Max said, “I thought I could move past it. I'm afraid it's happening all over again. First it was Arcadia Bay, next it will be Seattle.”

“Seattle.” Kristen said. Her words were vacant, meant for herself, “Seattle was falling into the ocean, or a massive pit.”

“So you saw it too?” Max asked. Her eyes widened in realization. _Had the vision been shared?_

“Yes.” Kristen said, “Though I'm not sure what _IT_ actually was. ”

“Kristen I am going to tell you everything that has happened to me. None of it is going to sound sane. I need to tell someone whether they believe me or not. It is becoming to much to handle by myself.”

“It can't be too much crazier than what just happened.” Kristen said with a shrug, “Max, tell me everything.”

 

 

\--------------------------------------

 

 

Chloe opened her eyes. She was lying on the oak table in the back room of Pacific Vintage. The first thing she noticed was the stiffness in her back. She reached behind herself. She felt bandages across the majority of her skin.

Fernando Torres was washing his hands in a small sink basin located in the corner of the room. The last drops of Chloe's blood were swirling down the drain. Fernando turned from the basin. He grabbed a paper towel from a dispenser on the wall. He noticed that Chloe had awakened. He wiped his hands before tossing the paper towel into a waste basket at the sink's foot.

“Don't move.” Fernando said. He held out his hand in a stop motion. His jacket was off, he had only his cotton white shirt on.

“What?” Chloe asked. She froze at his request, “Please tell me you didn't amputate anything important.”

“I want to double check the bandages one last time.” Fernando said. He looked apologetic, “I didn't mean to startle you.” Fernando stepped forward. He placed both of his hands onto Chloe's back.

Chloe lied there. She could feel Fernando's hands running along her skin. He was pressing the bandages at the edge, making sure they would hold under at least some abuse. The pressure was a bit painful in spots. Chloe enjoyed the feeling.

“When I touch you like this, does it hurt?” Fernando asked. He took the palm of his hand and pressed it over Chloe's largest bandaged wound.

Chloe closed her eyes, expecting pain. It was far less than expected.

“It doesn't hurt that bad!” Chloe exclaimed, “It looks like you got the magic touch!”

Fernando smiled, embarrassed at the praise.

He spoke, “Yeah. Well let's see if the stitches hold before we get too excited.”

“You're right.” Chloe said.

“Yeah.” Fernando said, “Okay, I'm going to help sit you up slowly. I want to watch the bandages and make sure none of them show bleeding. Tell me if you feel any stitches coming loose.”

“Stitches?” Chloe asked. She sounded shocked.

“It was bad.” Fernando said, “You are lucky that you passed out.”

Fernando put out his hand for Chloe to grab onto. He helped Chloe right herself on the table. She was now sitting on the table with her legs dangling in the air off of the front lip. Fernando leaned forward, past Chloe's side, looking at her back. She turned herself so that he could get a better angle. Fernando returned to a standing position.

“Just sit there for a few minutes, we'll see if they hold.” Fernando said.

Chloe nodded. She was unsure what else to say. She just stared Fernando in the eye. The table made the normally taller boy exactly Chloe's height.

“Oh yeah.” Fernando said. “I have something for any residual pain.”

He reached into his back pocket and produced a cigarette. Chloe smiled when she figured out what he meant.. It was a joint.

“A doctor and a pharmacist, in my time of need, I feel so lucky.” Chloe joked.

_She's funny_ , Fernando thought. He couldn't stop himself from smiling.

“So you want some?” Fernando said.

“Of course!” Chloe stammered, “Getting blazed sounds amazeballs right now.”

Fernando flicked the joint coolly in his hand. He reached into his front pocket and found a Bic lighter. He placed the well-rolled joint into his lips and brought the lighter to the tip. He pulled in air and ignited the Bic. The end of the joint was set aflame. Fernando returned the lighter to his pocket and took a long drag.

He took the joint out of his mouth and brought it up to Chloe's. She leaned forward and took the cigarette with her lips. She brought her right hand up to hold it while she drug. Smoke began flowing from her nostrils. She went to hand it back to Fernando.

He shook his head, “No. Hit it again. Doctor's orders.”

“It's really good.” Chloe said. It was an impressive flavor. The smell was incredible. Nothing smells quite like good weed. “Thanks dude,” She took another long pull. This time she coughed as she exhaled. It was strong.

“I almost forgot.” Fernando said. He turned from the table to the shelving. He retrieved an object from the middle shelf. He turned back to Chloe. Fernando was holding Chloe's tri-bullet necklace in his hands.

“What does this mean?” He asked. He was looking at the object in his hands, running his fingers across the cool metallic surface of the bullets.

Chloe let out a long breath. A long trail of smoke came with it.

Chloe's words came out reflective, with purpose, “Those bullets are a reminder of how fast life can change. It only only takes a moment to lose something precious. The blink of an eye, faster than a speeding bullet, that is how quickly someone can be taken away from you.”

Fernando look at the bullets in his hands with a deep sense of longing.

“I guess they are also a reminder to fight back, no matter how hard life gets.” Chloe said after a few moments. She handed the joint to Fernando. He took it this time and brought it to his lips. He took his time drawing the smoke into his lungs. Chloe's words rattled around in head. He exhaled the smoke in a long sigh.

“I told you I lost my father.” Fernando said, “You have lost someone as well then.” He took another deep pull from the joint.

“I lost my father in a car accident a little over five years ago.” Chloe said. Her words were reluctant; she knew they would be painful. She turned away from Fernando's gaze, “I discovered my lover's body on Thursday.” Chloe felt herself tearing up, “My mother just died in Arcadia Bay, Friday morning.”

Fernando found himself speechless. He watched as Chloe's tears fell down onto her shoulder. She could not look at him, somehow embarrassed of her grief.

“It is okay to cry.” Fernando said. He reached out and cupped Chloe's hand in his own, “It is okay to cry. That is something that my father taught me before he died.”

Chloe turned. Fernando's eyes were filling with tears.

“What happened to him?” Chloe asked. She regretted the question as soon as it left her lips.

Fernando looked down at the bullets in his hand. He turned them over one last time.

“My father was shot.” Fernando said, “In the war.”

Chloe reached her arms out and pulled Fernando to her. She wrapped her arms around him. Fernando could feel the girl squeezing with a great deal of strength. Fernando wrapped his arms around Chloe's torso pulling her against his chest. She buried her head into his shoulder and cried.

After a few minutes the crying stopped. Chloe pulled herself from Fernando's shoulder.

“I'm sorry.” Chloe said. She wiped away her remaining tears with her forearm.

“There is nothing to be sorry about.” Fernando said. He leaned forward, very close. For a moment Chloe wondered if he would try to kiss her. For a moment Chloe wondered if she would let him.

Fernando reached up above Chloe's head and draped her necklace down over her neck, returning it to its rightful place. He lingered for only a moment, experiencing the chemistry.

“I can see why Max couldn't stop talking about you.” Fernando said. He let a smile cross his face.

Chloe found herself blushing. Feelings of guilt began to wash over her.

“Max is okay?” Chloe asked, “uh, and Kristen too?”

“They are both fine. I believe they ordered chinese food.” Fernando answered, “Shall we go and find out?”

A wide, medicated grin crossed Chloe's face, “Yeah, I love chinese.”

Fernando turned from the table and produced a white women's v-neck shirt from the packages of clothing on the shelving. Chloe raised her arms above her head. Fernando reached up and pulled the white shirt down over Chloe's arms and torso. It was a size too large but very comfortable.

Chloe took Fernando's hand and hopped down from the oak table. He motioned towards the door. They walked out of the small storeroom towards the front of _Pacific Vintage_.

 

 

\------------------------------------

 

_Pacific Vintage_ was closed for the day. Usually the store would be open until 9:00pm. Today, Kristen Giroux had decided to close Pacific Vintage at 3:00pm. The metal security shutters were closed and the lights were on.

Kristen was sweeping up multiple shards of glass. She felt mentally and physically exhausted. Max was bent at the knee. She had a small dustpan in her hands. Kristen swept a tiny pile of glass into the small metal receptacle. Kristen found herself filling with pity as she looked at her friend. _She's been through so much_ , Kristen thought. Max lifted the last tiny pile of glass up and off of the floor. She deposited it into a large grey trashcan.

“That's good enough for now,” Kristen said, “I'll probably be finding glass for months.”

Max looked at the door leading into the back of Pacific Vintage. _Chloe has been gone for awhile now_ , Max thought. She played with the little silver dustpan in her hands. It was a nervous tick.

“You don't believe me do you?” Max asked. She was afraid of Kristen's answer.

Kristen was pulling the garbage can to it's rightful place next to the front counter. She paused, standing up straight with her hands on her hips.

“I honestly don't know what to think Max,” Kristen said, “It sounds insane. Time travel, natural disasters, and supernatural visions. I would write you off as crazy but after what happened earlier I don't know what to think.”

Max looked ill. It wasn't quite the answer she had hoped to hear.

There was a creaking noise followed by a gush of air. The door leading to the back of the store had swung open. Both girls turned. Chloe Price stepped out from white door followed by Fernando Torres.

Max strode across the room with purpose. “Please tell me you're alright,” Max demanded as she went.

Chloe put her arms out. Max pushed herself into Chloe's arms with force.

“I'm fine,” Chloe said. She found herself giggling, “I'm actually kind of really high right now thanks to this guy.”

Max pulled out of the hug. She turned to look at Fernando. Fernando paused, unsure of what Max intended. She took three strong steps forward and wrapped her arms around his torso. Fernando brought his arms up and squeezed Max tight against his chest.

“Thank you so much.” Max said.

Fernando smiled. He released her. She looked up to meet his eyes.

He put a wry smile on his face. “It is good to see you Maxine. It is unfortunate that we had to meet under these circumstances.”

Chloe watched as a broad smile crossed Max's face.

“So, he gets to call you Maxine?” Chloe asked.

Max turned her smile from Fernando back to Chloe. Max looked a bit embarrassed, “I told him he could call me anything he wants with an accent like that.”

Chloe turned to Fernando. Her eyes narrowed at him.

“He _was_ getting pretty handsy in the backroom just now.” Chloe teased. She watched as Fernando turned a bright shade of red, “I'm going to have to keep an eye on this one.”

“Should I just leave?” Kristen called out from her seat by the table, “That way ya'll can have some privacy for your threesome?”

Fernando laughed. Chloe looked embarrassed.

Max turned; she put her hands on her hips before speaking, “You're more than welcome to join us. The more the merrier.”

“I am okay with this plan.” Fernando said. He began nodding in agreement.

Kristen rolled her eyes, “ugh, you two are so full of shit.” A warm smiled betrayed the disdain carried by her words.

Chloe smiled. Max had found good friends in Seattle. An aching sadness came over her. _Rachel._ She pushed the thoughts out of her mind.

“Go get the chinese, lover-boy.” Kristen said, “It should be ready.”

“No problem boss,” Fernando said. He walked towards the door. Passing Kristen on the way he bent down and kissed her on the forehead. She smiled sheepishly. All three women watched him leave.

“Sit,” Kristen motioned to the table. The tablecloth had been stuffed in the garbage can. Chloe's blood had made it unusable.

Max flung herself back down onto the throne-like wicker chair. Chloe retook her seat in the rocking chair.

“That would be the perfect cherry on top your fucked up week, losing your virginity in a pseudo-orgy.” Kristen said, turning to Max.

“It's about 15 hours too late for that.” Max said. She turned red. It felt good to say it. A brag.

A look of surprise spread across Kristen's face. Max turned to look at Chloe. Kristen followed Max's eyes to the blue-haired girl.

Chloe was turning red now, she looked away from both of them, a wide smile on her face. Kristen took Chloe's silence as confirmation.

“Jesus Max.” Chloe said.

“I'm sorry Chloe.” Max said, “I've told her everything else, about Jefferson, time travel, the Prescott’s, the vortex, everything.” Max watched as Chloe leaned forward and rested her arms and head upon the table.

“I had to tell someone else,” Max said, “We can't keep this bottled up just between us anymore. I needed someone to hear me, for my own sanity.”

Chloe laid her head down in the crook of her left elbow. She reached her right arm across the table, extending her hand. Max reached her left hand out and squeezed Chloe's hand.

“It's okay Max,,” Chloe said, “I'm glad we're talking about it.”

Chloe continued to speak, “Actually I was going to wait until we were alone but since Kristen knows everything I can just say it.” Chloe straightened up in her chair. She laid her elbows on the lip of the table, “I saw something, when the crystal ball was possessed or whatever.”

“We saw something too.” Max said, “Tell us what you saw.”

Max and Kristen listened, hanging on Chloe's words.

Chloe brought her left hand to her temple. “Let me think for a moment. I wish I didn't smoke that weed now,” Chloe said, “The both of you passed out. It was scary. I couldn't remove my hands from the crystal ball. It was black at first...but then there were a bunch of images.”

“The blue butterfly.” Chloe said. Her eyes turned towards Max.

Max nodded, “I saw it too. A doe.”

“A doe,” Chloe said, “A knife I think.”

“I didn't see a knife.” Max said. She looked concerned.

“I saw a knife.” Kristen said, “Then there was a face, but it wasn't human. I looked like a statue maybe.”

Max looked disappointed, “I didn't see anything like that either.”

“I can draw it.” Chloe suggested, “It seemed oddly familiar.”

Kristen stood up and retrieved a yellow pad of sketch paper from the Pacific Vintage counter-top. She slid it across the table to Chloe along with a blue pen.

Max rose from her seat. Kristen and Max stood on either side of Chloe waiting with baited breath for the drawing to be complete.

Chloe was drawing a rounded little face with two rows of exposed teeth. Next, a pair of raccoon like ears on top of the little face.

“I know that.” Max said.

The other two women turned and waited for Max's answer.

“That is the Tobanga.” Max said.

Chloe and Kristen looked puzzled.

“What the fuck is a tobanga?” Chloe asked.

“Come on Chloe,” Max said, she looked a bit disappointed in her lover, “You went to Blackwell. It's the old totem pole out in front of the dorms.”

“OH YEAH.” Chloe said, “That thing is cool.”

“I always felt like it was watching over us.” Max said.

“Max that's creepy.” Chloe said.

Max looked nostalgic, “That's probably why I liked it.”

Kristen slammed her palm hard onto the tabletop. Both Max and Chloe were startled.

Kristen's voice was raised, “Are we not going to talk about the elephant in the room?”

“I'm sorry.” Max said, “Chloe, what else did you see in the vision?”

Chloe paused, her eyes grew darker before speaking, “I saw... Destruction. A great pit. It was terrifying. Cars, buildings, people, even the streets and stuff were being sucked down. I think it was Seattle; I think I could see the space needle.”

“The ocean.” Kristen said. She was staring at the table now, her expression was blank, lost in the deep recollection of memory, “The ocean was coming.”

Max felt a deep chill at Kristen's words. _The ocean is coming,_ Max thought. Chloe fell silent.

“You saw the Arcadia Bay tornado?” Kristen asked. She was staring at Max.

Max nodded yes, “It was just like this, a vision.”

All three of the girls contemplated the situation. They sat staring at one another for what felt like minutes.

“We don't have a choice then.” Kristen said finally, “We have to visit this thing.” She brought her outstretched finger down hard against the little yellow sketchpad.

“The Tobanga?” Max said.

“She's right.” Chloe said, “It is the only thing we have to go on.”

Kristen let out a sigh, “I don't know if I believe any of this. I don't know how much of your story I can take on faith Max. I have to see it for myself. We'll leave for Arcadia Bay tomorrow. I'll make Fernando drive.”

Max felt her stomach turning. She closed her eyes. _Going back to Arcadia Bay._ She knew that Kristen was right. Max opened her eyes. She locked eyes with Chloe. Max could see that Chloe's eyes contained the same fear and determination that was in Max's heart.

“Okay.” Max said, “We'll leave for Arcadia Bay in the morning.”

“What are you going to tell Fernando?” Chloe asked.

“We won't tell him anything,” Kristen said, “He won't believe us anyway.”

“You're right,” Max said, she thought about their mutual friend, “He won't.”

The little silver bell above the door of Pacific Vintage rang out. The noise caught all three women by suprise. Fernando pushed his way into the building carrying a large white plastic bag of chinese food.

“Food's here!” He called out cheerfully from the doorway.

“Thank God.” Chloe said, “I'm fucking starving.”

 

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

Max Caulfield and Chloe Price stepped out the front doors of Pacific Vintage. Fernando Torres was holding the door for them. They each had a little vanilla bag in their hands. They had not forgotten their original intent of purchasing clothing.

“Ok then,” Fernando said, “ I will pick you up in the morning, 7:30?”

Max nodded, “Yeah, that way we can get to Arcadia Bay at about noon.”

“Ugh, 7:30 is hella early.” Chloe whined, “I'm gonna to be dragging ass all day.”

Max and Fernando both smiled.

“We'll have to get some coffee in the morning.” Fernando said, “You drink coffee right?”

“Yep.” Chloe nodded.

“Perfect, it's a plan then.” Fernando said, “I'll see you both in the morning.”

Fernando started to close the door. Chloe stopped him.

“Wait.” Chloe said, “Thank you. For helping me.”

“Don't worry about it.” Fernando said, he had a bright smile on his face, “It is always a pleasure to meet new friends.” With that Fernando closed the door.

Max snorted, “He is going to be so disappointed when Kristen tells him we're together.”

“He flirts with all the girls like that doesn't he?” Chloe asked.

“Pretty much.” Max said, “When I left for Arcadia Bay he told me that I should come back and visit when I turned 18.”

“I'm glad I beat him to the punch,” Chloe said. She turned to Max with a grin on her face, “We could always make him our little boy toy.”

“You're bad.” Max said.

“You're worse,” Chloe said, “You just don't realize it yet.” She had a devilish smile on her face.

A cool breeze blew over the small porch. Max watched as Chloe's blue hair flapped in the breeze. Max zipped up her black hoodie The overcast day had turned into a rainy one. The droplets were coming down hard, creating a steady din against the pavement beyond the porch. Max inhaled, filling her lungs with cool and fresh air.

“I love the smell of rain.” Max said.

Chloe leaned back against one of the wide, grey stone pillars holding up the porch. She placed her bag of clothing down next to her feet.

Max crossed the porch; She deposited her bag next to Chloe's. Max leaned her back against the pillar. She took Chloe's hand into her own.

They were silent, watching the rain fall over the mostly empty street. The red, orange, and brown of the bricks was vibrant, their color returning from the water. The older buildings had vines growing on the sides of them. The rain was cascading down the green leaves dripping onto the sidewalk below.

“You're back is alright?” Max asked.

“It hurts a little bit.” Chloe said, “No big deal.”

Chloe looked out across the street. There was a couple walking beneath a bright yellow umbrella. Two businessmen were running from a taxi into an office building. The hotdog vendor was packing up his stand.

“You're life was nice here,” Chloe said, “You're parents are great people, this city is nice, you're not poor, and you have cool friends.” Chloe let out a long breath of moist, rain air, “I can see why you never called me back.”

“This life wasn't that great.” Max said.

“Yeah, right.” Chloe said.

“No,” Max said, “I was missing something here. It was the only thing that could make me truly happy. I didn't know what it was, but I do now.”

Max stepped forward and turned herself around to face Chloe.

“Do you know what that thing was?” Max asked.

“What was it?” Chloe asked.

“It was you Chloe.” Max said, “It always has been you.”

Chloe found herself turning beet red. Max took a step forward, pushing herself upwards for a kiss. Chloe met her half-way. She bent down bringing her lips to Max's. Max wrapped her arm around the back of Chloe's head, holding her there, dictating the length of the embrace. Max let go after a few moments dropping back to the flats of her feet.

Chloe leaned back onto the pillar. Max stepped forward, laying her head against Chloe's shoulder.

“Why does this keep happening to us?” Max asked, “We should just escape. We can move to Maine, become writers, maybe kick-boxers.”

Chloe looked sad, “We can't.”

“I know.” Max said.

The rain stopped. It was a jarring effect. Max righted herself, startled by the sudden change in weather.

“Weird,” Chloe said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. The time was 3: 23 p.m, “Almost 3:30. I guess it's time to go?”

“Let's go see my parents,” Max said, “We'll break the bad news about leaving tomorrow.”

They retrieved their bags and made their way down the small cement staircase. The rain was gone, replaced by a cool breeze. They strolled, taking in the wet air. Max was staring across the street. There was a woman walking with a stroller, another young boy in tow. He was jumping from puddle to puddle, annoying his mother. He had a bright red balloon in his hands.

_I wonder if Chloe wants children?,_ Max thought. She imagined holding a newborn with a full head of blue hair. Max smiled, _We would actually be terrible parents._

Max heard Chloe sniffle. She turned. Tears were streaming down Chloe's face. Max stopped the both of them from continuing. She placed her hand on Chloe's upper arm.

“What's wrong?” Max asked.

“Mom.” Chloe said, “I was just thinking about her. _We left her there_.”

Max stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Chloe.

“If we are going back can we stay for her funeral?” Chloe asked.

“Of course we can.” Max said, “We'll stay with David. We'll figure it out.”

“Rachel, Max.” Chloe said.

“I know,” Max said, “We'll talk to her parents. We will set everything right Chloe, everything.”

“Thank you.” Chloe said. She squeezed Max tight before letting her go. Max wiped at her own eyes with her sleeve.

There was a strong burst of wind. Both girls thought they might be blown over.

The breeze stopped. A noise came drifting from across the street.

“Mommy, Mommy, loon.”

Max and Chloe both turned at the noise. The little red balloon was captured by the wind. It was carried out into the street.

“JAIME STOP”

The mother tried to grab at the boy, but she was too late. The boy ran out into the street trying to catch the little red balloon.

 

There was a bus.

 

Max felt her heart leap in her chest. Chloe took a step forward. She screamed, swinging her arm in the air, “MOVE”

The little boy was oblivious. The bus slammed his back hard. He was pushed forward onto the pavement.

Max and Chloe watched as his body was rolled over and dragged into the spinning tires. The brakes of the bus began screeching. The tires locked. Max watched as the shadow of the boy fell in front of the grinding tire.

Chloe turned away and grabbed Max, preventing her from seeing. There was a sickening crunch as the boy's skull was pushed beneath the wheel. The bus came to a halt seconds later.

“Someone help me,” the mother screamed.

Max pushed Chloe away. The woman was kneeling by the front tire of the bus. A nauseating red smear had been left by the tire. Max caught the smell of iron and burned rubber. She turned away from the image, feeling like she might vomit.

There was an empty store. Max walked to the glass. She placed both of her palms against the storefront, looking inside. She could see her reflection in the glass. _I can save him,_ Max thought. Her heart began racing wildly. _What if by rewinding time I am the cause of the earthquake?_ She felt herself breaking into a cold sweat.

The store was dark inside. The overcast sunshine, penetrating the old, grimy windows, was the only thing lighting the room. A figure stepped out from the deep darkness of the store. It was Mark Jefferson. He stepped forward. Max fixed her eyes on the man.

Max could hear his words from behind the glass. They came to her perfect and clear, “Always take the shot.”

The first rule of photography had never been about photography.

Max felt her heart turning to steel. Jefferson disappeared back into the shadows.

Max turned and grabbed Chloe's shoulder, turning the tall girl to face her. Chloe's eyes were wide and filled with tears.

“I am going to rewind time Chloe.” Max said.

“What about the vision?” Chloe asked. Grave concern came over her face, “What if fucking with time now is the causes the disaster?”

“What is the point to having these powers if I don't try?” Max said, “There has to be a reason.”

Max pulled her camera out from her messenger bag. She snapped a photo of herself. She placed the camera and photo back into her bag. Max stepped forward and reached her arm out. She had not tried to rewind time since the lunar vortex. She prayed that it would still work. The familiar tingling feeling came over her. She felt a time strand underneath her fingertips.

Chloe lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Max.

“Think this through Max.” Chloe begged.

“I've decided.” Max said. She bent the time strand.

Time began rewinding. The woman who was sobbing next to the body of her son slowly stood up and eerily shuffled backwards to the stroller. Max watched as the bus reversed from a dead halt. The body of the small boy slowly reassembled itself. The bus backed off of the boy's body. He jolted up from the cement and ran backwards to the sidewalk. The young mother and her son began shuffling backwards down the sidewalk. The red balloon flew back to the boys hands. Max let the pair shuffle backwards for as long as she could. Max felt her head starting to sear with pain.

“This is insane.” Chloe said.

Max let go of the time strand. She could feel Chloe's arms wrapped around her torso still. Max turned and looked at Chloe in shock. Chloe Price did not rewind with the rest of the world.

“Max, I traveled through time!” Chloe stammered, “That shit was tripped out!”

Max turned and pointed across the street, “The boy. Go.”

Chloe took off towards the young mother and her son. Max smiled as she watched Chloe chatting with the pair. Max was still in shock. Chloe ducked down and tied the balloon to the boy's wrist. The bus passed by without incident. Chloe turned from the young mother, waving goodbye. Max stared at Chloe's massive grin as Chloe made her way back to where Max was standing.

“You made the right choice.” Chloe said. She put her arms around Max.

“I really hope so Chloe.”

 


	7. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 7 - (Second Edit)

Vivian Prescott was sitting behind her husband's massive maple desk. Her blonde hair was curled up into a bun. Strands of hair were beginning to protrude from the neat hair feature. Anderson Berry's words had been hard to hear. It was 10:17a.m. Sunday, October 13th.

Sean Prescott's office was wide and circular. Being a man truly in love with himself, Sean considered the room an homage to the oval office. It had burgundy colored walls adorned with maple trim. There were a few bookcases on either side of the room. The floor was oak, a large, circular green rug sat in the center of the room. Sean's desk sat in front of the large window that looked out over the yard and garden of the Prescott estate.

Andy's voice was raspy and quiet, “I'm sorry Viv. Sean is gone. The best I can do is keep an eye out for Nathan. Maybe Jefferson was lying. It seemed to me like he wanted Sean to put him down, bragging about killing a man's son like that.”

Vivian knew Mark Jefferson well. She had an unusually deep voice, attractive yet commanding, “No. Mark wouldn't lie about something like that. Nathan is gone.”

Vivian was staring at a photo resting on Sean Prescott's desk. It was a photo of a young Nathan Prescott and his sister Kristine Prescott. The two were waving at the camera from the back of a jet ski with smiles on their faces. Vivian knew that her actions had led to her son and husband's deaths. _Trusting Mark was a mistake,_ she thought.

“I'm not sure what else I can do Viv. With Jerry gone I'm on the losing end of station politics,” Andy's look was remorseful, “I'm not sure how much I was willing to cover up anyway. I think Sean was losing it. He was going to have Corn kill the chase girl.”

“You are such a good person Anderson. You always were,” Vivian said. She looked up from the photograph. She nodded her head once, with purpose.

Anderson Berry felt a small circular metallic object press against his right temple.

Nikolai Anayev had snuck up behind Andy. Nikolai squeezed the trigger of his silenced makarov. Anderson Berry's life ended with a spray of blood and brains.

“You are a very cold woman.” Nikolai said, “I will remember that.”

“I have worked for many years on this project. I cannot afford to be discovered yet.” Vivian said.

Nikolai took a seat on a leather sofa sitting against the wall. He began unscrewing the silencer to his pistol. He was an older man, maybe in his early fifties. He possessed a trimmed, graying beard that ran the outline of his face. His eyes were wrinkled, old.. Something about his eyes portrayed a sense of dread when you looked at them. They seemed dead. The man took a cloth from the pocket of his tan 'members only' jacket and began wiping the weapon down. He considered the weapon a part of himself. It had been with him a long time.

Vivian was contemplating her next move. She looked down at a notepad. Andy's story was outlined in ink. There were only a few people left who could possibly know anything.

“You checked Mark's house?” Vivian asked.

“Jefferson? Yeah.” Nikolai paused before continuing. He spoke slow, anyone that heard him would hang on each of his words, “Clean. Too clean. It was clear that he was hiding something.” Nikolai said, “I went out to the barn. No one will find remains. They'll find the bunker probably. Will take some time. Most of the evidence was burned, buried the rest.”

“Good.” she said. Vivian was writing on a small pad of paper. Anderson Berry's body was still sitting crooked in the small office chair across the desk. Blood was beginning to trickle down and pool on the green rug. Vivian seemed to not notice, maybe she just didn't care, “I have a list for you.”

Nikolai rose from his seat and took the list. “I worked for your husband a long time. This though. This situation is tough.” Nikolai tucked the weapon back into his hidden jacket holster, “Three times the standard rate.”

“Deal.” Vivian said, “I suggest you start at Blackwell, they should have files on everyone involved.”

Nikolai looked at the list, it contained several names: David Madsen, Chloe Price, Victoria Chase, and Kate Marsh.

 

\----------------------------

 

Victoria Chase was having a very surreal morning.

It was 8:48a.m. Sunday, October 13th. Maxine Caulfield was caught in a Seattle nightmare. Anderson Berry was preparing for his meeting with Vivian Prescott. Victoria Chase was cooking breakfast.

It was a small two room apartment. There was a bathroom, a small area with a dining room table, and a fully functioning kitchen. The property belonged to a man named Jim Gates. The apartment itself was located at the outskirts of Arcadia Bay. Jim, being a forest ranger, needed access to the stretch of forest south of the town. The Woodside Apartments allowed for easy access to the forest.

David Madsen and Victoria Chase had come to Jim the night of the storm. David told Victoria that it would be safer for her to not remain at Blackwell, or with FEMA. Victoria needed no convincing. David Madsen saved her from a slow, suffocating death.

Victoria was standing at the kitchen counter of the small apartment. She was wearing a pair of men's black sweat pants and a white tank top. She cracked an egg into a small silver bowl. She whisked the egg into oblivion and poured it into the heated, well-oiled cast iron skillet sitting on the stove. The yellow, scrambled liquid began bubbling and hissing at contact with the dangerously heated metal.

“How did you learn to cook?” David asked. David Madsen was sitting at the wooden dining table. In front of him sat a hand radio, a small laptop, and a map of the city.

“My mother.” Victoria said. She scraped the eggs around the pan with a spatula, thinking about the question, “She told me that cooking was like art, something you did for yourself and others, an act of creation.”

“Good.” David said. He seemed more interested in what he was reading online, “I think women should know how to cook too.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes in irritation. David seemed totally unaware. She let out a sigh and scooped the eggs onto a small plate. She put two pieces of buttered toast on the plate and delivered it to the table.

“Thank you very much,” David said. He nodded and smiled.

Victoria smiled back, “yeah no problem.” She returned to the skillet and proceeded to crack two more eggs into the cast iron. Her eggs were going to be fried. She slipped two pieces of bread into the toaster.

“Where is Jim this morning?” Victoria asked.

Jim Gates had stayed with Victoria most of Saturday while David tended to his wife's funeral plans. Jim was kind and wise; Victoria had taken a liking to him immediately.

“Jimmy is with FEMA for most of the week. Apparently there are search parties going out to look for missing folks. They're checking the forest trails, Jim's their guide.” David said. He shoveled a large fork full of eggs into his mouth. The eggs were good.

Victoria flipped her fried eggs over, letting the other side heat. The toast finished. She did not butter it. After a few moments she cut off the heat to the skillet. She scooped the eggs from the hot cast iron directly onto her toast. She grabbed a fork from a little plastic drying rack next to the sink. She eyed the silverware carefully, checking for any dirt or other such uncleanliness. Satisfied that her fork was clean she delivered her own plate to the table. She returned to the kitchen and began putting away the ingredients. She would put everything away before eating herself. _I feel like my mother right now_ , Victoria thought.

Victoria sat down and began to pick at her food. She looked past her plate at David's map. It was a tourist map of Arcadia Bay. There were several different colored pins in the map. Eight plastic capped thumbtacks were scattered in various places around the town, each with it's own letter written in black marker.

“What are you even doing?” Victoria asked. Her tone was a bit demanding.

David looked up. He could see that Victoria was focused on the map, trying to understand it.

“These are all the important pieces to the puzzle.” David said. Victoria had a confused look on her face, “I'll explain.”

“These two pins,” David said, “These are us.”

Victoria looked down at the map. He was pointing to a set of brown and yellow pins. David had written the word “Woodside” on the map.

“What about these?” Victoria asked. She was pointing at several pins stuck into the corner of the map. One was blue. One was pink. The last one was white.

“Chloe, Max, and Kate Marsh.” David said, “They are out of bounds. Hopefully they will stay that way.”

“This is Jim then?” Victoria asked. She pointed to a green pin that was seemingly in the middle of the woods.

“Yep.” David nodded, “Can you figure what the thumbtacks are?”

Victoria looked at the thumbtacks. Each one had a a single letter written in marker. Two at Blackwell. One of them in the woods with Jim. One at the hospital. One on the south side of the town. One of them at the FEMA camp. One at the police station. One of them was on the corner of the map. Victoria looked at the corner of the map. There was a little label that read: Barn. The thumbtack there had a large letter “C” on it.

“They are police officers.” Victoria said, “This one here. The C. This is Corn.”

“Good.” David said. He seemed surprised that she was capable of the deduction.

“Who are these though?” Victoria asked. She was pointing to a black pin and a red pin sitting next to Corn's.

“Black is for whoever killed Sean Prescott.” David said, “Red is an unknown player. Black and red could be the same person though, can't rule it out yet.”

“An unknown player?” Victoria asked.

“Yeah,” David said, “Yesterday, I made sure that Joyce's body was going to be taken care of. After that I stopped in at the barn. I figured I should see if I left anything behind, anything that would incriminate us, better than that maybe, something that would point us in the right direction. It was real obvious when I got there that someone had already cleaned up all of the evidence. There were no bodies, even the tire tracks had been covered up.”

Victoria looked angry, “Why didn't you tell me you were going back? I could have come along.”

David was surprised by the anger,“It was too dangerous. Why would I bring you along?”

“It would be way more dangerous if the person that I was relying on for help got himself killed.” Victoria said, “I can help. Teach me how to shoot.”

“That ain't going to happen.” David said.

“Why the hell not?” Victoria snapped.

David crossed his arms, “I'm not going to be responsible for putting a weapon in the hands of...”

“A woman?” Victoria interrupted.

“A student.” David said. His eyebrows were furrowed now, “I still have a responsibility as a security officer to protect the students.”

“ooorrgh,” Victoria let out a frustrated grunt. She stood up and slapped both of her palms flat on the table. There was a loud clap noise. Her eyes narrowed before speaking, “That is the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard. I'm putting myself out on the line. I lost a good friend. This isn't some game to me.”

Victoria could see that she was successful in guilting the man.

David looked remorseful, “I'm sorry. You're right. I have a bad habit of … flying solo.”

“Give me your damn plate.” Victoria said. She reached for the empty plate and fork sitting in front of David. David handed her the objects. She took his plate and her own to the sink and began them soaking.

The little laptop let out a clicking noise followed by a static hiss. Officer Anderson Berry's voice came over the radio channel. Victoria and David listened in silence.

“Randall. This is Andy do you read me?” Andy said.

“Copy that Andy.” Randall responded over the radio frequency.

“I received a request for a squad car at the Prescott place. I will be gone for a few hours. Acknowledge.” Andy said.

“Roger that Andy.” Randall responded. “You will be at the Prescott place for the next few hours. Any word from Corn yet? Over.”

There was a brief silence on the radio channel.

“I'm sure he will turn up eventually,” Andy said, “Over and out Randall.”

“Over and out Andy.” Randall came back.

“That traitor.” David said, “We have to take that fucker down.” Victoria could see the rage in David's eyes. It was scary but she felt her own anger welling up inside of her.

Victoria walked over to the map. David moved a thumbtack labeled “B” from the police station to the far north side of town to the Prescott estate.

“This is our chance.” David said.

“For what?” Victoria asked.

“We're going to break into the police station. No one is there.” David said, “You want to help? Get dressed.”

 

\-------------------------------

 

Victoria looked at herself in the mirror. She was in the bathroom of Jim Gates' apartment. She had on a pair of overly large women's jeans. She had on a long-sleeved black shirt and a brown leather belt with a simple golden buckle. The clothes belonged to Jim's wife, Janet. She passed years ago. Victoria had protested when Jim offered the clothes to her, but putting the clothes to use seemed to make Jim happy. “Janet would have wanted you to use them.” was a sentiment that Victoria could not argue against.

Victoria slipped on an old green and black plaid cotton coat. _A little more Max Caulfield then I am used to,_ Victoria thought, examining the rustic clothing. She wasn't used to seeing herself without makeup, _Maybe I could get used to something like this._ Victoria shook her head, _I'm so fucking vain._ She turned from the mirror and exited the bathroom.

David Madsen was carrying a large piece of cardboard in through the doorway. Victoria stepped forward and grabbed an end of the unwieldy object. David pointed to the kitchen sink. They leaned the cardboard up against the sink. Victoria looked at it. It was covered in different pieces of paper, times, dates, coordinates.

“These are photos of Nathan,” Victoria said, “Kate too.”

“It's evidence.” David said, “Max and Chloe gathered all of it, though I'm not sure how.”

_Max did all this?_ Victoria thought.

“We'll go through all of it later.” David said, “We have to hurry to the station.”

They stepped out into the cool October day. The day was overcast, the threat of rain could be felt in the air. David was parked in front of the door leading from the apartment.

Victoria hopped into the passenger seat. David slipped into the driver side. He put the vehicle in drive. They pulled out of the parking lot of the apartment complex and onto the short stretch of roadway that would eventually lead to Arcadia Bay.

The drive to the police station started off as a pretty one. The overcast skies muted the coloration of the trees. Victoria wished that she had her camera.

“So you've never used a gun at all?” David asked.

Victoria shook her head, “I've never even held a gun.”

David let her answer roll around in his head.

“David,” Victoria said, the hint of fear was in her voice, “We're not actually going to shoot anyone are we?”

“Hopefully it doesn't come to that.” David said. It wasn't a very reassuring answer.

Victoria turned to stare out the window. The countryside was beautiful. The area was primarily forest, every once and a while giving away to a farm or a large piece of owned land. Victoria caught herself staring at a passing barn. Her thoughts turned to The Dark Room.

“I've been thinking about something Jefferson said.” Victoria said.

“He was sick.” David said. There was disgust in the words.

“He mentioned Vivian.” Victoria continued, “She has to know something.”

“He did say something like that...” David said. The gears were beginning to turn in his head.

“I never liked her.” Victoria said, “I only met her once. She gave me a dirty look like I was going to try and take her son away from her, controlling bitch. Nathan stood up for her when I mentioned it though.”

“She was the one that pushed for the school to hire Jefferson.” David said, “She basically threatened to have Ray removed unless he cooperated with her demands.”

“Ray?” Victoria asked.

“Uh,” David said, “Raymond Wells. Principal Wells. Faculty usually calls him Ray. Sorry.”

“I wonder if that useless worm could tell us anything.” Victoria said. She turned to look back out the window. The trees were starting to become more and more damaged as the Caprice came closer to where the lunar vortex had made landfall.

“Victoria.” David said.

She turned .

“Open the glove box.” David said.

She opened the small compartment. Jerry Corn's .38 revolver was sitting on top of a blue handkerchief. She remembered the feeling of having it pressed against the back of her head. Victoria shuttered.

“A revolver is a very stable and reliable weapon.” David said, “There are five shots. You pull the hammer back, aim, and pull the trigger. Don't lock your elbows, exhale before firing, it will have kick to it. You won't have to use it, but I want you to know it is in there.” David reached over and closed the glove box.

“What do you want me to do?” Victoria asked.

“I am going to have you sit in the car and radio me if you see anyone coming.” David said.

“So a lookout?” Victoria asked.

“Yeah. Exactly.” David nodded.

“I can do that.” Victoria nodded.

David reached into the back seat and produced a walkie talkie. He handed it Victoria.

“What are you even looking for in there?” Victoria asked.

“I'm not sure.” David said, “I'll know it when I see it.”

_Great,_ Victoria thought, _Surely nothing can go wrong with a plan like that._

 

 

 

 

\---------------------------

 

The outskirts of Arcadia Bay were difficult to navigate. Fallen trees partially blocked the road. Navigating the maze of debris had taken a long time on the day of the storm. David made the trip several times now, easing the difficulty of the drive.

Downtown Arcadia was still a nightmare. The streets were littered with debris. Large portions of buildings, uprooted piers, boats, and destroyed vehicles blocked the roads. Power lines were downed almost universally across the small town. The downtown was empty. A majority of the residents decided that remaining in the ruined town was a poor choice. Victoria spotted several stores that had their lights on. The red and blue 'open' signs were blinking defiantly in the windows. The hum of generators filled the air. A part of Victoria wished David would just drop her off at Blackwell Academy.

The fire department and national guard were out in force. The streets were being systematically cleared. When the streets were cleared the fire department and EMT workers checked each individual house. It was going to take a long time for the small city to make a comeback.

The roads leading to the police station were some of the first to be cleared Saturday afternoon. The drive to the police station was an easy one. The hardest part was stomaching the smell of rotten whale flesh. A whale had been flung onto the roadway at the corner of Park Street and Pierce avenue. The decaying animal had been baking in the sunlight for close to three days now. Victoria gagged at the putrid smell.

David felt that his plan might have been ill-conceived upon seeing the national guardsmen clearing the streets but Pierce avenue was pleasingly vacant. David pulled into the empty parking lot of Carter's pharmacy. The old brick building's windows were bordered up. David looked up at the sign. He had come there monthly for the family medication. It was sad to see the usually cheerful sign dark and busted. There were a series of symbols spray-painted on the plywood. It meant something to the national guard, David was unsure what though.

The police station was on the far side of the street. The parking lot had only ten spaces in it. Eight police officers assigned to the whole of Arcadia Bay. David knew the location of them all.

David reached into the back seat of the car. He produced the small laptop. He handed it to Victoria.

“Show me.” Victoria said.

David double clicked an icon of a little radio on the desktop of the small screen. A program named _ScannerZ_ appeared on the screen moments later.

“It's simple enough.” David said, “I've got it set to monitor the radio chatter. It should be good to go. You might get some traffic from the national guard.”

“Okay.” Victoria said.

David produced a walkie talkie from the pocket of his black windbreaker. He turned it to channel nine. He handed it to Victoria.

“If you hear anything concerning the station you contact me right away, “David said, “I don't think anyone should be using channel nine, but we should have some code names.”

“I will contact you right away if I hear anything. Channel nine.” Victoria repeated David's words indicating she understood.

“I'll be Queen Bee.” Victoria said.

“My codename is Big Foot.” David said.

“Very fitting.” Victoria said.

David was lost in thought. He was going over the plan in his head. Victoria stared at the laptop screen familiarizing herself with the program.

“Ok.” David said, “I'm going.”

Victoria felt a pit forming in her stomach. She nodded.

David exited the vehicle. He made his way across Pierce Avenue. He didn't make for the police station. Instead, David cut across to the Arcadia Bay Farm Market. The market was closed, empty, left vacant by the storm. David made his way behind the building entering into a a small alleyway. The alley ran perpendicular to a concrete wall The fence was a barrier between a small parking lot behind the market and the back of the police station.

The station was a large two story building. It was made of tanned bricks. The front of the building had several tall windows that were rounded near the top. It sat on the end of the block taking up both corners.

David looked at the white painted concrete wall. It would be too tall to climb unaided. He looked around the parking lot of the market. He spotted a blue dumpster. David bent down and undid the lock preventing the dumpster from moving. He pushed it against the large stone wall. David pulled himself first on top of the dumpster and then over the concrete wall. The drop was far but he landed it. He was in the area behind the police station now.

There were two empty kennels. The dogs were out in the forest with FEMA and Jim Gates, looking for survivors. There was an old fire ladder. David had warned Andy about the ladder numerous times at the diner. It was clearly a safety concern. A point of entry. Andy had always brushed David off as being paranoid.

“Who would break into a god damn police station?” David said, quoting the corrupt officer.

David smiled as he opened the tiny cage surrounding the steel fire ladder. David began climbing towards the roof of the station.

 

 

\----------------------------------

 

 

David Madsen reached the rooftop. The man had every intention of forcing his way into the police station. David scanned the horizon of the building. The rooftop was covered in loose gray gravel. There was a series of exhaust fans and a sizable water tank. There was a small brick shack with a gray-painted metallic door. The door was propped open by a small wooden wedge. Several empty beer bottles were lying by the door. David smiled at the ineptitude of the scenario. _I guess there's no need to break anything today._

David reached down and pulled the hand radio off of his belt. He brought it to his face and pressed the button. The welcoming hiss of the radio channel greeted him back.

“Queen Bee do you read me?” David said. He released the button and waited expectantly for the response.

“I can hear you.” Victoria's voice came back over the radio, “uh, Big Foot.”

“I am going in. Let me know if the situation changes.” David said.

“I will do that. Yes.” Victoria said. Her voice was stiff and stilted, trying to sound formal.

David placed the device back onto his belt loop. David pulled his pistol from its holster. He checked the magazine and chamber. David switched the safety to the off position. He was now carrying his weapon in condition zero. All he would need to do was pull it and it would be ready to fire. He prayed that he would not have to use the weapon today. David pulled the gray metallic roof door open.

Inside the door sat a small maintenance area. There was a workbench with a lamp and chair. A fine set of tools was contained on a cork-board attached to the wall behind the bench. There was a fire extinguisher and a clock on the wall. A series of fuse boxes ran along the inside wall. Next to the fuse boxes there was a staircase that seemed to lead downward further into the building.

David chose the staircase as the best course of action. First he listened and then he peeked. When David was satisfied that no one was down the stairwell he began to make his way down it. It was a narrow stairwell but well lit. There was a large spiderweb tucked neatly against the light fixture. The spider was dried up and shriveled, dead from the cooling conditions of the outside world.

David reached the bottom of the cream painted concrete stairwell. Another gray metallic door was found at the bottom of the stairs. David placed his head against the door, making sure that his ear was flat against the cold metallic surface. For 30 seconds no noise could be heard. David reached down and turned the round metallic knob. The door opened. David cracked the door only slightly. He listened one more time. Still nothing. David pushed his way through the door.

The door led to the top of another much larger stairwell. The new stairwell was well lit. The walls were the same cream colored concrete. David knew now where he was. He was in the central stairwell of the Arcadia Bay police department. He remembered coming here before. David interviewed years ago with Jerry Corn for a law enforcement position. Jerry had given David a tour of the building. David had not received the position but the knowledge of the building would come in handy this morning.

There was a security camera. It was aimed down the stairwell. David reached down to his belt. He holstered his weapon. He then pulled his M9 Bayonet knife from his belt. He pushed himself flat against the wall so the camera could not see him. He reached up and cut a series of exposed wires. He re-sheathed the knife onto his belt, confident the camera was no longer capable of recording.

David made his way down the steps. He was deliberate with each step. He was sure not to make noise but as it became clear that no one was in the building David felt his pace increasing. He reached the second floor. There was a wooden door with a glass window pane. David peeked in through the pane. There was a serious of wooden office doors with glass panes on either side of a long hallway. He knew that both Anderson Berry and Jerry Corn's offices were located down the hallway.

David felt his stomach tighten as he opened the door to the second floor offices. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. The office area was much warmer than the stairwell. David stopped and listened. No signs of life. He stepped forward, walking past several doorways that were clearly offices. At the end of the hallway there was a gray security door. There was a little keypad on the wall.

The keypad had been cracked open. It was nothing more than a mass of tangled wires dangling from the wall. _Someone else has been here._ Immediately goosebumps began crawling down his arms. He snapped his head around looking back down the hallway behind him. No one was there. He waited for several seconds unsure of what to do.

David drew the pistol from his belt. He pushed against the security door. It gave. The security office looked fine. Everything seemed like it was in proper order. There was a black metal desk with several monitors stacked on top of one another. Next to that was a rack that contained several servers. The office seemed to function as a utility closet as well, containing shelves with supplies like toilet paper, bleach, dish soap, cans of unopened coffee, and other amenities. David recognized the model of the security system. He reached down and touched the mouse on the desk. A large desktop monitor came to life. It was apparent after several seconds that the security system had already been disabled. _I might be too late,_ David thought, _I need to be quick._

David stood. He went back to the hallway. The first office he came across read Officer Anderson Berry on the door. David pushed through the door into Andy's office. The office was simple. The walls were a tan color. Andy's desk was a total mess. Papers had begun to stack themselves up in piles. Surely the piles would have meant something to Anderson himself but to any outsider the stacks of paper seemed like something out of the television show H _oarders_. David moved a rolling office chair out of the way and made it behind the small paper swamped desk. The computer was on. There was a screen saver of Andy with his wife and son. David looked at the image only for a moment. He moved the mouse. A lock screen came up. David let out a sigh. He began to rummage through the papers on Andy's desk.

“Son of a bitch.” David said. He was holding a copy of a police report in his hands. It was dated for Saturday, October 12th . David began reading the report. It outlined the accidental death of Mark Jefferson at the hands of the Lunar Vortex. _His body was carried into the tornado,_ David read the report to himself, _what a fucking joke._

He stood up from the desk looking around. There was a leather briefcase sitting next to Andy's desk. David bent down and lifted the briefcase up onto he desk. There was a three number combination lock. David pressed the release hoping that Anderson had failed to change the numbers. The latch on the little case clicked open. David opened the briefcase fully. The case was empty on the inside.

David immediately began putting the half-written police reports into the medium sized carrying container. David opened the large drawer to Andy's desk. A large row of manilla folders greeted him. It took David several moments to realize what he was looking at. These were all of Andy's case files. Every crime he had dealt with in Arcadia Bay. _There has to be something here,_ David told himself. He examined the files even closer. They were organized by date. David estimated that he could fit about 7 years worth of cases into the briefcase. He was careful to maintain the integrity of the files ordering as he transferred the folders into the carrying case.

David opened another small drawer on the desk. It contained basic office supplies and some personal effects. David stood up. He felt that he had lingered in Andy's office too long. _Had the clock on the wall started to tick louder?_

David stepped out into the row of offices. Jerry Corn's sat across from Anderson Berry's. David stepped forward and turned the door knob. To his surprise the door opened. David stepped into Corn's office.

Corn's office was quite dissimilar to Andy's. A fine wooden desk sat against the far wall. The desktop was barren. There was a large shelving unit that had several photographs and awards displayed prominently. Corn was a well decorated officer.

David found his eye drawn to a small triangular box. The box had a glass front, underneath the glass sat a ring sitting on a pillow. The ring was black and silver. There was a bird on it. _An Eagle Maybe?_ , David thought. He took the small box and placed it inside the briefcase.

David searched the desk. Personal effects, useless memos, and a half empty bottle of bourbon were the only things David found. No files of any kind seemed to be kept in the open. There was a large double tall safe in the room. David was sure that Corn must have been the type to keep all of his secrets locked up. David took one last look underneath the desk. He found a laptop charging device plugged into the wall. David looked one final time, no laptop was present in the room. _It's in the safe,_ David thought, _No, maybe someone beat me to it._ The second thought made David nervous.

David's watch began beeping. He had spent far too much time searching the offices.

 

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

Victoria Chase felt like she was going to vomit. She was sitting in the parking lot of the now defunct Carter's pharmacy. David Madsen was inside of the Arcadia Bay police station. He had been gone for close to 45 minutes now. Victoria was bouncing her leg, trying to control her anxiety through kinetic motion.

Victoria watched as a police cruiser turned onto Pierce. She felt her heart leaping in her chest. She fumbled the radio in her lap, it fell to the floor.

“God damnit!” Victoria yelled out in panic. She bent down reaching for the radio. By the time she righted herself the cruiser was well past the police station. Victoria could see the police state symbol on the side of the vehicle. She took in a long breath to try and stop herself from shaking. _What do I do if he never comes back?_ , She thought to herself. It was a possibility that they had never discussed.

Victoria pushed the thought away. She turned to look out at the street. The town seemed vacant. A few people could be seen walking at the end of the block. Victoria found herself waiting in anticipation every time someone reached the corner of the block. No one had turned down Pierce for her entire time monitoring the situation.

Victoria jolted in her seat. The radio that was sitting between her legs crackled to life.

“This is bigfoot. Does anyone copy. I repeat. This is bigfoot.” It was David's voice.

Victoria pressed the button on the side of the small hand radio, “I can hear you. Ah, this is Queen Bee.”

“How are we doing today Queen Bee?” David asked over the radio.

Victoria thought about her answer, “It's a good day today, Bigfoot, nice and clear.”

“Twenty Minutes. Bigfoot out.” David said over the channel.

“Roger that Bigfoot, out.” Victoria responded.

David felt himself smiling at the girl's enthusiasm. Some part of his mind knew that he was having fun. He pushed the thought away as twisted. The radio fell silent again.

Victoria looked out across Pierce avenue. A shadow moved into the alleyway next to the Farmer's Market. _No, No, No_ , Victoria thought, _I wasn't paying attention._ She placed the little laptop onto the driver's seat and exited the vehicle. She cupped her hands over her eyes trying to focus her vision on the alleyway. The shadow darted deeper behind the market. Victoria felt her heart starting to race. _Someone is there._

Victoria brought the radio up to her mouth, “There is someone in the alley.”

“Who? Can you confirm?” David asked.

“I can't see them,” Victoria answered back, “I'm going to get a closer look.”

“Don't leave the vehicle.” David stammered over the radio. “Do you copy Queen Bee? Do not leave the vehicle.”

Victoria had already made up her mind. She leaned back into the open passenger side window, opened the glove box, and retrieved the revolver. She tucked it into her front coat pocket.

“I will stay put,” Victoria lied over the radio. She began her walk across Pierce Avenue.

Nausea was the primary instinct flowing through Victoria's body. She walked with purpose but let her feet fall soft.

_I have to play this smart_ , Victoria thought, _I'll circle the Market_. She walked to the right side of the market. Before entering in the space between the buildings she checked the street one final time. Pierce avenue was still a ghost town.

Victoria peeked her head around the side of the building. The alley was dark. The overcast, soon to be raining, day had done the alley no favors. A rat ran across the the cluttered space, crossing from a pile of old trash to an abandoned refrigerator. Victoria's eyes narrowed at the rodent. _I will fucking blast you if you try anything_ , Victoria thought.

Victoria began skulking towards the back of the building. She peeked her head around the corner, looking behind the structure. There was a tall figure in a long duster trench coat. Victoria put her hand into her pocket, gripping the handle of the revolver. She waited, observing the figure.

It was a long, brown-haired woman. The woman was going through a pail of old vegetables that had been thrown out behind the building. _Thank god,_ Victoria thought. Victoria felt her heart sink as the woman bit into an old looking tomato.

Victoria turned away back down the alley. She let her hand fall from the handle of the revolver. She was shaking now, her body trying to shake the adrenaline rush she had experienced.

What Victoria Chase saw as she reached the sidewalk in front of the farmer's market made her blood turn cold. Two police cruisers were parked in front of the police station. Officer Randall Jacobson and Lieutenant Chris Rossi were walking to the front door to the building. Victoria immediately brought the radio to her face.

“The police are back!” Victoria yelled into the radio. “They are coming in the doors now! Get out of there!”

Victoria was cursing herself as the two authority figures passed through the police station doors. Victoria jaunted back down the alley leading behind the farmer's market. The homeless woman was gone. She found the dumpster David had used to surmount the concrete wall. She began to climb. _This is all my fault_ , Victoria thought. The thought kept racing through her mind. She found the fire escape and began her ascent to the roof.

 

 

\-----------------------

 

 

David Madsen flinched as Victoria Chase came in hot over the hand-radio.

“The police are back. They are coming in the doors now. Get out of there!”

David was currently standing behind the main counter of the police station. The front door of the station swung open. David dived beneath the front counter. His hand quickly went to the radio on his belt. He turned the device off and covered his mouth. He began to control his breathing.

Randall Jacobson and Christopher Rossi entered the police station. Christopher Rossi was young for a police Lieutenant, only 32 years old. He had brown hair that fell down to his ears on either side of his head. Randall Jacobson was the youngest member of the Arcadia Bay police force at the age of 28. He had short faded black hair. Both men were wearing the standard police uniform. Christopher's had the decoration of a lieutenant.

The first floor of the police station was a large open air area. A sizable portion of it was taken up by a waiting room complete with a vending machine, a row of bucket seats, and a coffee machine sitting on an old wood laminate desk. The room was painted the same cream color as the stairwell's interior. There was a single turn-style that separated the waiting area with the rest of the station's first floor. The turn-style sat connected to the front desk of the station and an adjacent wall, creating a barrier to entry.

The two young officers were caught in a discussion.

“I just don't think it's right man.” Randall said. “Every time the Prescott's call, Andy goes running. He's like their little bitch.”

Both men had only made it a few steps inside the station but Christopher Rossi turned and placed his hand on Randall's chest, stopping the forward motion of the man. Randall furrowed his brow.

“Listen Randall.” Chris said. “You're right, but Andy is a good cop. I looked into it. What he does for the Prescott's seems mostly harmless. A lot of it is just babysitting the Prescott kid.”

“It still isn't right Chris.” Randall said. He batted the lieutenant's arm away. Randall began walking towards the turn-style.

David felt the man's footsteps getting closer. David was unsure what he would do if Randall was to come behind the counter. David pulled the leather briefcase close to his chest.

“God damnit Randall,” Chris said, The lieutenant's voice had started to rise in volume, “The world isn't that black and white.”

“What would you have me do huh?” Chris continued, “Fire Andy and Jerry? Jerry has been here longer than I have. He is one hundred percent entrenched in the union.”

“Jerry is a god damn alcoholic, everybody knows,” Randall said, “We have one of the worst natural disasters this town has ever seen and the man totally disappears. Where the fuck is he Chris? You know he is in a god damn bottle somewhere.”

David could sense that Randall had turned from the turn-style to face the lieutenant. David began to crawl out from behind the desk. He reached the edge of the counter area. Still on his hands and knees David peeked out around the corner. He could see Randall on the other side of the turn-style. David knew that this might be his only shot. He began to crawl out from behind the counter, praying that the man would not turn around.

“Randall I'm right there with you,” Chris said, “But you really need to hear me. Sean Prescott is one of this station's biggest benefactors. You like driving around in that new cruiser right? Where do you think we got the money for that? You know how few taxpayers are actually in this town?” Chris held his hand up, his finger and thumb only inches apart, indicating a measurement, “Jerry is this close to retirement. All we have to do is wait and we can run this station the right way.”

“You're the fucking lieutenant Chris.” Randall said. The man had a sense of exasperation in his voice. David was continuing to crawl towards the stairwell.

“How long do you think I'll stay the lieutenant if I start putting my foot down on these guys huh?” Chris replied.

Randall let out a sigh. “I'm so sick of having this conversation man. Every day,” He said. Randall began to turn towards the style. David felt his entire body tense up as the man's shoulders began to spin. Randall stopped himself. He put his hands into his pockets.

“See look at what you made me do,” Randall said, “I forgot my key-card in the cruiser.” Randall walked away from the turn-style. David heard Chris call after Randall as the man walked out the front door of the building.

David took the chance, it was the best he was going to get. He scrambled towards the stairwell. David reached the stairwell just as Christopher Rossi turned the corner to the turn-style. David crawled up the stairwell. Each one of his limbs was always on a step. He was fast but silent.

David made it to the second stairwell that lead to the roof. He closed the door, making sure no noise was produced. David let out a breath as the door closed behind him. David climbed the final set of stairs that lead to the small maintenance shed on the roof. Nikolai Anayev was standing in the maintenance shed.

Both men looked at each other for a brief moment. Nikolai was dressed in plain clothes. A tan 'members only' jacket with a nice navy dress shirt underneath. There was a gun holstered at his side.

David figured there was no going back at this point. He went to draw for his weapon, dropping the briefcase to the floor.

Nikolai was fast. The older gentleman lunged as David went for his pistol. David brought his pistol up but it was too late. Nikolai thrust his palm underneath of the weapon in David's grip, knocking the pistol into the air.

David knew that the gun would be useless for the rest of this fight. As the weapon tumbled into the air David focused on the unknown man's hands. The prediction was correct. The man was reaching out towards David's right arm. He felt Nikolai's left leg thrust forward looking to sweep him off balance.

David followed his instincts. He reeled back his head and firmly planted his forehead into the equally tall man's nose. Nikolai staggered backwards momentarily. The pistol finally fell to the floor, it was still not going to be an option. David took the few seconds Nikolai was reeling back to reach down and pull his knife from his belt. The blade of the M9 bayonet read: “To My Angel, Keep Your Wings Up.”

Nikoalai produced a butterfly knife from the sleeve of his jacket. The weapon swung dangerously in the air. The nunchuck like swinging of the blade is terrifying to anyone who has not witnessed it before.

“Been a long time since I had to use this.” Nikolai said, ”It's killed seven Serbians. Four Croats. One American diplomat. I wasn't informed that you were a solider. David Madsen.”

“I'm not sure who you are buddy.” David said, “But we don't have to do this.”

“Yes we do. This is business. Nothing personal.” Nikolai responded.

“Bring it on you commie piece of shit.” David said, finally detecting Nikolai's accent.

Nikolai took a step backward. David was smart. He knew that the man wanted to draw the gun on his hip. David stepped forward, keeping himself in striking distance of the man.

“I thought you wanted to knife fight?” David said, “Maybe you're getting too old?”

Nikolai lunged forward unexpectedly at the taunt. David thrust his blade forward toward the man's chest. Nikolai brought his free hand up to deflect the blow. He then brought the butterfly blade upwards trying to drive it into David's stomach. David rolled his body to the left avoiding the blade. Nikolai lost his grip on David's knife. Nikolai extended his right leg and tripped David as the mustachioed man tried to regain his footing. David fell to the floor, his knife falling from his hand. He had a look of defeat on his face.

“I will fucking blast you if you try anything!” Victoria Chase screamed from the stairwell.

 

 

\-------------------------------------

“I will fucking blast you if you try anything!” Victoria Chase screamed from the stairwell.

Nikolai froze. He had not expected the tall, blonde girl with the revolver. The girl was shaking. Nikolai felt a bead of sweat form as Victoria cocked the hammer of the .38 special back. The girl was too far away for him to reach.

“I will fire all these rounds.” Victoria said. “I will kill your ass.”

Nikolai furrowed his brow. He dropped the butterfly knife to the floor. The fear in the girl's eyes made him nervous.

“If he moves you shoot him.” David called out. David rose to his feet.. He retrieved his knife from the floor as he rose. Nikolai's eyes focused momentarily on David's handgun.

“Victoria if he goes for that gun at all you shoot him and don't stop.” David said, he spoke to Nikolai now, “Now undo your belt buckle with your left hand.” Nikolai began to lower both of his arms.

“Stop.” David said. He took a step forward with the bayonet in his hands. “Just your left hand. You keep that right hand in the air. Victoria if his right hand moves again you shoot him.”

Nikolai could see that Victoria's finger was beginning to squeeze the trigger of the revolver. The girl was far too nervous.

“It's okay girl.” Nikolai said. “I won't try anything else. Relax. Your friend here is smarter than he looks.” Nikolai felt relief as Victoria's finger began to loosen a bit on the trigger.

Nikolai lowered his left hand and undid the belt buckle. Nikolai undid the button to his pants and raised his left arm back into the air. He shivered as he allowed his pants, along with his makarov, to fall down around his ankles. The air in the rooftop maintenance shed was cold.

“Step out of the pants and kick them to me.” David instructed.

Nikolai stepped out of his pants. He kicked the pants directly at David's face. David flinched, blinded by the flying fabric. Nikolai barreled down the stairs towards Victoria. Victoria fired the revolver. The bullet pierced Nikolai's outstretched hand. The man's grip on her was weakened by the bullet. Nikolai pushed the girl to the ground, unable to grab her. He pushed past her through the stairwell door. He knew that David Madsen would be seconds behind him with the knife. David leapt past Victoria who was prone in the stairwell. David brought his knife down towards Nikolai's back as the man stepped out of the stairwell and into the hallway. David's blade caught only air.

Christopher Rossi was in the central stairwell of the Arcadia Bay police station, he had heard the gunshot and come running, weapon drawn. He aimed his pistol at the sight of the bearded pants-less man sprinting out of the rooftop stairs.

David closed the door as Nikolai dropped to his knees and placed his arms above his head. He turned to Victoria who was now standing once again.

“Run.” David whispered. He began to sprint up the maintenance stairs. David retrieved his weapons, the briefcase, and nikolai's pants and makarov.

David closed the door to the maintenance shed behind them. Victoria and David climbed their way down the ladder. David boosted Victoria over the concrete fence. He used an empty dog kennel as leverage to cross the barrier. The duo made their way back across the street to the blue caprice. David took the revolver from Victoria who was still shaking from the adrenaline. He put the car into drive and casually pulled out of the parking lot back onto Pierce avenue.

 


	8. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 8 (Second Edit)

\------------------------------

 

It was the afternoon of October 13th 3:27 P.M. Maxine Caulfield and Chloe Price had just finished saving a little boys life.

Max leaned her forehead against the passenger side window of the truck. She stared out into the dimly lit parking structure. Her breath began fogging up the glass.

Chloe turned the key in the ignition. The old engine sputtered. It was having a hard time turning over. After a few more attempts the engine began roaring. Chloe looked at Max. The girl had brought her hand up to the foggy glass. Max pulled her hand away. A perfect hand-print was left on the passenger side window.

Chloe turned the heater on. She put her hand on Max's shoulder.

Max turned, smiling at Chloe. The smile was somber, wistful. Chloe's face was solemn.

“What are we doing Chloe?” Max asked. She turned her head, leaning it back onto the glass.

Chloe's shoulders slumped. She was on the driver side of the bench seat. She leaned forward crossing her arms on the steering wheel, resting her head.

“We saved that boy Max.” Chloe said, He words were quiet, aching “It was awful. We had to save him. He didn't deserve that. To die like that. His mother didn't deserve it.”

“No one deserves it,” Max said She wiped the outline of the hand away, “What if he had to die though?”

“You can't do that Max.” Chloe said, “Don't do that to yourself.”

Max kept staring out the window. Chloe frowned. She was getting angry.

Chloe straightened herself out in the seat, balled her hand up into a fist, and slammed it hard against the steering wheel.

“I don't believe that for a fucking second,” Chloe yelled. Her words were filled with ire.

Max was startled by the loud noise. The outrage on Chloe's face was frightening.

“Fuck you if you believe that!” Chloe yelled, “It's bullshit!”

Max looked hurt. She pulled her legs up onto the bench seat, burying her head against her knees.

Chloe felt her anger melting away, turning into grief again. She reached her hand out to touch Max's arm. Max swatted the hand away.

“I don't know what to believe!” Max screamed, raising her head towards Chloe.. Chloe flinched, unprepared for the outburst.

“Don't yell at me.” Max yelled, “You're not helping.” Max reburied her faced into her knees.

Remorse washed over Chloe. She put her elbows on the steering wheel and buried her face into her hands, crying.

Both of them were silent for several minutes, unsure of what to say, lost in their own thoughts.

Eventually Max's sobbing stopped. She put her feet back down on the floorboard. She opened the glove box, looking for a napkin.

“I'm sorry...” Chloe said, tears still falling down her cheeks, “I shouldn't have yelled. I... “ Chloe was searching for the words, “It's just that, you saved him. You saved him, just like you saved me. You shouldn't have to feel guilty about that. I don't want you to feel guilty.” Chloe wiped at her eyes with her forearm, “You didn't do anything wrong. You never did anything wrong. I was frustrated, I got angry, it wasn't fair.”

Max was quivering, unable to stop herself from balling. She just put her arms out. Chloe pushed herself across the bench seat, placing herself in Max's reaching limbs. The wrapped their arms around one another.

“It's okay,” Max said. She snorted, pulling snot back into her nose, “I'm a bit fragile, but you didn't break anything. At least not anything that wasn't already broken.” The hug ended.

“I'm a shitter.” Chloe said.

“Chloe stop.” Max said. She handed Chloe a taco bell napkin, “We're okay. Watching that was difficult. We stopped it though. It's like a movie. It didn't really happen.”

“It's just like, you don't even know if you caused the storm Max.” Chloe said. She began wiping at her eyes with the overly rough piece of paper, “How can you be so sure when you barely know how your power works? We just discovered something new like fifteen minutes ago. Mom told me something. She said that everything happens for a reason. She said that there was a reason you wandered back into my life. You have to have these powers for a good reason Max.”

“She said something similar about you. I'm glad you still have faith.” Max said, “But it's not like I can start training like one of the X-Men or something.. It would be way too dangerous. My powers are still a mystery.”

 _Mystery_. Chloe mulled the word over. She thought of an old quote, _Mystery is delightful, but unscientific, since it depends upon ignorance._

“We should head to the Seattle Municipal Court.” Chloe said. Her tears were gone. She had a determined look on her face.

“What is at the Seattle Municipal Court?” Max asked. She looked puzzled, wiping away at the last of her tears.

“Science.” Chloe said.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

Walker Williams looked out over the small crowd that had gathered in front of the Seattle Municipal Court. The crowd was filled with signs and posters. One of the signs had a series of letters on it. “H.A.A.R.P.” The acronym was followed by a phrase. “Ask the Important questions.” Walker's smile was sad.

Walker turned from the window. He was on the fourth floor of the courthouse. He was using the conference room as a temporary workspace. The large desk behind him was riddled with paper. Each layer of dead trees was covered in complex mathematics. He sat down in a large leather chair at the head of the table and leaned as far back as he could. There was a laptop sitting on the table. He pulled it onto his lap.

The room was empty. Most of the principal investigators had gone home. It was almost 4:30 P.M. Sunday, October 13th . Walker pulled up the CNN website. The headline was painful to read: _'NOAA/NASA scientists unable to identify the source of the 'Lunar Vortex.''_ Walker found a second article in the sidebar just as annoying: ' _Truss Limpbow declares homosexuality the cause of the 'Lunar Vortex.''_

 _How ignorant,_ Walker thought, _People are terrible._

Walker closed the little laptop and placed it back on the desk. He shut his eyes and ran his right hand through his long blonde hair. He leaned forward and put his forehead against the expensive wooden conference table. His eyes were baggy and sunken in.

Walker's cellphone began to vibrate in his pocket.

“What now!” Walker yelled – his frustration coming to a head.

He pulled the cellular device from his khaki pants. He answered the phone, his forehead remaining on the desk.

“Walker Williams.” he spoke into the device.

“It's Dan.”

“What now Dan.” Walker replied. Dan's calls had been an annoyance all afternoon.

“I have two women here that insist on seeing you.” Dan said over the phone, “They say that they are from Arcadia Bay. They want to give information about the vortex.”

Walker let out a massive sigh. _Another day that refuses to end itself._

“They're not nut-jobs are they?” Walker asked.

“They kind of look like protestors,” Dan said in a hushed tone, “They have Arcadia Bay I.D. though.”

“Check them for weapons. Send them up.” Walker said.

“Will do.” Dan replied. The call ended.

Walker lifted his head off of the conference table. He stood up and walked to a small desk sitting against the wall. He poured coffee from a bronze coated thermos into a small paper cup. He drank the entire cup in three gulps. The act reminded him of his college days, cramming for his final exams. He returned to the head of the long table. He straightened his tie and ran his hand through his hair a final time, a weak attempt to look presentable.

A security officer named Dan Schroeder appeared in the hallway with two individuals in tow. Walker had expected something different, middle aged women. The two individuals in the hallway looked like they might still be teenagers. One of them had fading blue dyed hair.

“ _Jesus Christ_.” Walker said. His skepticism level was rising rapidly.

Dan ushered both Max Caulfield and Chloe Price into the conference room. Dan nodded to the two women and smiled. He disappeared back down the hallway.

 

\----------------------------------

 

Max and Chloe entered the conference room. Max turned and waved to Dan, smiling at him. The security officer nodded, smiled, and then left back down the hallway with a tip of his hat.

“Wow, that guy is so nice.” Chloe said.

Both girls turned to the conference table. A haggard looking Walker Williams was sitting at the head of the table. He was still wearing the same clothes from the previous day's press conference. That was over 24 hours ago. The conference table was covered in a massive collection of notepads, briefcases, steno pads, pencils, and calculators.

Walker rose from his seat.

“Hello.” Walker said, “Please have a seat. Would either of you like a cup of lukewarm coffee?”

“No.” Max said. She turned to Chloe.

“I'm good.” Chloe said, “Thanks anyway.”

Walker held his hand out, motioning to the two chairs to his right.

Chloe plopped down into the second chair. Max hesitated, she was eying the paperwork sitting at the location. Walker followed her gaze to the stack of mathematics. He put his arm over the area and proceeded to push the massive pile of important looking material off of the table and onto the ground.

“Trust me, it's all useless.” Walker said, “Please sit down miss...?”

“Caulfield.” Max answered. She sat in the chair directly to the man's right.“My name is Maxine Caulfield.”

Walker held his hand out, asking for a handshake. Max took it.

Walker nodded, polite with his smile, “Walker Williams, It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Caulfield.” Walker ended the handshake.

“We saw you on TV.” Chloe said. She shot her hand out across the table, “My name's Chloe.”

Walker reached out and grabbed Chloe's hand, giving her a strong handshake.

“Nice to meet you.” Walker said. The handshake ended. Walker plopped himself back down in the large leather office chair. Max could see that the man was exhausted.

“Is there something I could do for the both of you?” Walker asked. He was slumped back in his chair, “Hopefully I can be useful to someone before the day ends.”

“Actually, we were thinking maybe we could help you out.” Chloe said.

Walker perked up a bit in his seat. He spoke, “I'll take any help I can get at this point.”

Max turned and looked at Chloe. The two girls gave one another a concerned look. Max shrugged.

“First, can we ask you some questions about the storm?” Max asked, turning to Walker.

“I'm afraid I won't be able to tell you much.” Walker said.

“Please,” Max said, “You have no idea what we've been through. We lost so much.” Max found Chloe's hand under the table. She squeezed. Chloe squeezed back.

Walker felt his heart filling with pity.

“You misunderstand,” Walker said, “Well, maybe I misspoke. It isn't that I'm not allowed to tell you anything. The problem is that there isn't that much to say.”

“What do you mean?” Max asked.

Walker let out a long breath. Max saw the disappointment in the man's face, _maybe it was shame?_

“We've been working with all of the oceanic and atmospheric data for the last 48 hours, trying to determine the root cause of the vortex,” Walker said, “I couldn't, uh, _we,_ couldn't figure it out. We contacted NASA. They couldn't figure it out. They contacted EASA. EASA couldn't figure it out. EASA passed the data to china.” Walker brought the first two fingers on his left hand up to his temple, massaging the area. “It's a bad place when you're passing the data to china.” Walker shook his head, trying to buck his frustration, “I have nothing for you. I'm sorry I don't have a better answer. I wish that I did.”

“You know _some_ things though,” Chloe said, “At the press conference you said the tornado was made of spinning forces. What does that even mean?”

Walker nodded, “I can explain it.”

The blonde-haired man bent down and retrieved a steno pad from the ground. He placed it on the table. Walker then reached into his the pocket of his dress shirt and produced an ink pen. He flipped to a blank page in the steno pad. Walker began sketching an outline of the vortex. Max leaned forward, watching intently. Chloe stood up to get a better view.

“These bands here.” Walker explained, he was pointing at the bottom most bands of the crudely drawn vortex, “These bands spin this way.” Walker drew an arrow indicating a clockwise motion. He then drew another set of arrows above that, “The next set of bands spin counterclockwise, or oppositional to the first bands. The pattern continues the length of the vortex with the bands alternating clockwise and counterclockwise rotation.”

“What are the bands made of?” Chloe asked.

“Exactly.” Walker said, “That is what we can't determine. We figure they are probably gravitational in nature, but none of the math adds up. It actually breaks most of the theoretical models about how gravity works.”

Max and Chloe were quiet. Both of them were thinking about what they had seen.

“It really is kind of beautiful in a way.” Walker said, “You have something that should theoretically not exist. There it is though, in the actuality, giving a big defiant 'fuck you' to everything we thought we knew about universal constants.”

“How did you conclude it was gravitational in nature?” Max asked.

Walker enjoyed the girl's curiosity. He could see the need to understand in her piercing blue eyes. It was a feeling he had always chased, _understanding._

 _“_ Occam's razor mostly,” Walker said, “You're familiar with the concept?”

Max shook her head, “I've heard the phrase before.”

“Well then,” Walker said, “Imagine you are walking down a street. You see a woman pushing a stroller.”

Max felt a chill run down her spine at the words. Images of the grisly bus accident began playing out in her head.

“Do you run up and accuse the woman of kidnapping the child?” Walker asked.

Max was turning pallid.

“Of course not.” Chloe said, injecting herself into the conversation.

Walker turned to her, “Why not?”

“It wouldn't make sense,” Chloe said. She thought about her answer for a moment, “You are assuming too many things.”

“Very good,” Walker smiled, “You might be a natural scientist.”

“If it walks like gravity, and it talks like gravity, then it's probably gravity?” Max asked.

“That is where we are at, for now at least.” Walker said. “Maybe China will find something we overlooked.” He seemed dissatisfied with the answer.

“What about time?” Max asked.

“Time?”

“Yes, time.” Max said, “Do you think that time could have something to do with the vortex?”

“Let me think.” Walker said. Chloe and Max stared at the man. Walker leaned back into his chair, letting his eyes wander to the ceiling in thought.

Walker spoke after a few moments, “Time is a measurement of events. It's a human quantity, like an inch or a mile. It actually has very little to do with influencing matter. There might be quantum theories that propose time as a molecule, but we don't have the technology to detect something like that yet.”

“So it isn't something you really considered before?” Max asked, “Too many assumptions right? It got cut away by Occam's Razor?”

“Yes.” Walker said. He was thoroughly intrigued now, “That is correct.”

“What if you could assume less?” Max asked, “About time.”

“I'm not even sure what you're suggesting.” Walker said, somewhat confused by Max's words.

“What if I told you that time is a physical object?” Max said, “Time is a physical object that can be manipulated. It can be manipulated and controlled.”

Walker looked at Max for a few moments. Max could feel his bright green eyes evaluating her. She could see the wheels turning in his head.

“I get the feeling you're not talking about some quantum theory.” Walker said.

Max shook her head, “I'm talking about time being a very touchable, physical object.”

“Please continue,” Walker said.

“Time runs in strands,” Max said. She reached for the small steno pad. Walker slid the object to her and handed her his pen.

Max began to sketch the strands. She closed her eye, visualizing them.

“They run through everything, like veins,” Max said, “hmm, it's hard to describe. Maybe they are more like webs. It's easier to feel them than it is to really see them.”

Max finished her sketch and slid the pad back to Walker.

He looked at the pad and nodded.

“Ok,” Walker said, “You can see these 'time strands'?”

“Yes.” Max said.

Walker looked down at the little pad some more. He let out a long sigh. Max and Chloe waited for him to say something.

“You can touch these?” Walker asked, looking up from the pad.

Max nodded, “Yes. When I touch them, I can manipulate time. I know this sounds crazy. Maybe it is like you said earlier, time is just a measurement, maybe it is actually gravity I am experiencing, I'm not a scientist, I wouldn't know the difference. The bottom line is that there are these large cord-like structures running through everything.”

Walker was hard to read. He kept his head nodding, staring at Max. He was vacant, lost in thought.

“You're saying this material may be what the vortex was made of? These cord-like structures?” Walker asked.

“Maybe,” Max said, “I think I fucked with something I shouldn't have. I think I damaged reality, or time, or something cosmic like that. I think I might have caused the vortex.”

Walker's eyes lit up. He had a realization.

Max shook her head, “I sound crazy don't I?”

Walker's face grew serious, “No,” He reached his arm out across the table and grabbed Max's hand, “You're not crazy, don't say that. I'm glad you came here.”

Walker looked over at Chloe. “Chloe right?”

“Yeah,” Chloe nodded.

“Can you see these strands of time?” Walker asked.

Chloe hesitated, “Yes.” She lied. She followed the answer up with, “I only traveled through time once though.”

Max felt her cheeks turning red. _We sound so fucking stupid,_ Max thought.

Chloe tried to backpedal, “I mean, I only saw Max manipulate time a few. . . times.”

“That's okay,” Walker said. He could see Chloe was flustered, “This whole situation seems scary, but we can talk about it some more. I don't think that either of you are crazy.”

Both girls nodded as Walker spoke.

“Listen I am going to bring someone else in here,” Walker said, “I want you to bring someone else up to speed as well. She's great. I've worked with her for years. She's like my partner. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Max said.

Chloe nodded. A sad smile crossed her face.

Walker rose from his seat at the head of the long conference table, “Don't go anywhere, two seconds.” With that the blond man walked out of the conference room, disappearing into the hall.

“I'm sorry Max,” Chloe said, “I made us look crazy. There is no way he believes us.”

“Would you believe us Chloe?” Max asked, “It's not your fault.”

Chloe could only shake her head in response.

Max reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a single pink post-it note along with a pen. She began writing a note. When she finished, Max slipped the small piece of paper into what she assumed was Walker Williams' laptop bag.

“You could prove it by rewinding.” Chloe said, “The same way you convinced me.”

“I'm not willing to risk it.” Max said, “What if this moment is what destroys Seattle?”

Chloe had nothing to say.

Two figures appeared in the hallway. Walker Williams was being followed by a short, round blonde woman. Both of them entered the conference room, Walker holding the door open for the unidentified woman. She was wearing a skirt that came to her knees, stockings, and a professional-looking black blouse. Her name-tag read Dr. Kareen.

Walker spoke first, “Max, Chloe, I would like both of you to meet Rebecca.”

Rebecca was bubbly and warm. There was a large smile on her face, “Hi my name is Rebecca. Dr. Williams here was just telling me that the two of you were sharing some info with him about Arcadia Bay. Is that right?”

“Yes.” Max said.

Walker interjected, “Would you two like something to eat? I'll be right back, I”m going to grab a box of donuts and some fresh coffee from downstairs. When I get back we can talk some more.” He motioned towards the door awkwardly.

Max stared Walker in the eyes. The man was a bad liar and riddled with guilt.

“Thank you Mr. Williams.” Max said, “Thank you for really listening to me, at least for awhile anyways.”

Walker cast his eyes towards the ground. He nodded, “I'll be back to hear some more.” He left the conference room and disappeared down the hall.

Rebecca stepped forward and held her hand out to Chloe. Chloe had a sour look on her face. She recalled meeting women like Rebecca before. The school district had forced Chloe to meet with counselors after William had passed away. It was quite obvious to Chloe why Walker brought the overly nice woman in.

“Chloe, it's nice to meet you.” Rebecca said. She gave a polite nod.

“It's nice to meet you too.” Chloe said, shaking the woman's hand, “Listen, I'm sorry. But we have to go.”

A large frown came over Rebecca's face, “Awwww, but we just met.”

Chloe stood up. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, “I just got a call, it turns our house just got broken into, it seems like a huge mess. It's under control, but we have to get there right away. The police are waiting for us.”

“Oh my,” Rebecca said, the woman seemed genuinely concerned, in fact, everything about Rebecca seemed genuine, “That is too bad. Here though, take my card.” Rebecca reached into her skirt pocket and retrieved a small stack of business cards.

“I was really looking forward to hearing you talk about Arcadia, and your theory.” Rebecca said. She handed a business card first to Chloe and then another to Max. Max stood up and received the card.

Rebecca made sure she had eye contact with Max before speaking, “You can call this number at any time. I'll be willing to listen, about Arcadia or anything at all, ok?” Rebecca had another large infectious smile on her face.

There was something so comforting about the woman. Max found it unbearable. Tears began pouring down Max's face. _I could tell her everything,_ Max thought. Max wrapped her arms around the shorter blonde woman. It was a desperate hug.

“You're so, _nice_.” Max said. She stepped away from Rebecca, “I'm sorry. I can't stay.”

Max fumbled out an excuse, “Our dog escaped during the break in. We have to find him.” Max was still crying. She couldn't get it under control.

Watching Max, Chloe felt she too might start crying. She stepped forward and took Max's hand, “We have to go Max.”

Rebecca patted Max on the shoulder as Chloe guided them out of the conference room. Rebecca sat down at the conference table and began taking notes.

Chloe guided Max into the hallway. The two made their way towards the elevator that would take them to the bottom floor.

“Max I'm so sorry.” Chloe said. Her words were dripping with remorse, “We should never have come here. I fucked up. I didn't think it through.” Chloe pushed the button to call the elevator. The elevator door opened immediately, it was already at the fourth floor.

Max and Chloe entered the elevator. Max began wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her black hoodie. Chloe pushed the button for the bottom floor.

“Don't say that. We were always going to sound crazy, no matter how pseudo-scientific we could make ourselves sound.” Max said. The elevator jerked into motion. Elevators had always made Max queasy. She felt her stomach turning as the metal box carried them to the bottom floor.

The duo exited the elevator and left the building. As they were leaving the building Max grabbed Chloe's hand and drug her left of the main doors. Max pushed Chloe up against the stucco-like concrete wall. Chloe crossed her arms defensively.

“I have blue hair, tattoos. I'm wearing bloody men's carpenter jeans for fuck's sake.” Chloe said. Her eyes were beginning to fill with tears, “I'm a fucking joke. You would have been better off by yourself.”

“You're so fucking wrong.” Max said. There was anger her eyes now, “You know what would have happened if I was by myself? That woman would have convinced me that I was crazy.”

Tears began pouring down Max's face as she spoke, “She would have been so nice to me. I would have told her everything and all I would have gotten for it was a big hug and a prescription. The sad part is that I would start to believe them eventually. I would start to believe that I actually was crazy.”

Max continued, her face contorting into grief, “You are the only person who knows the truth, the only person I can tell everything to that wouldn't think I am crazy. I'm all alone without you Chloe, you are _all_ that I have.”

Max buried her face in Chloe's chest. Chloe accepted the hysterical freckled girl into her arms. Chloe let herself sink to the ground, tears pouring down her cheeks. Her back ground against the conrete. She felt one of her stitches come loose. She ignored the pain. Max sank with her, staying in her arms. They sat against the wall of the Seattle Municipal Courthouse and cried.

 

\------------------------------------------

A man in a gray suit walked up to a pair of crying women sitting against the wall of the Seattle Municipal Courthouse.

“Are you two okay?” the man asked.

Chloe Price glared up at the man. She snapped at him, “Our fucking dog is dead. Can you back the fuck off?”

At first the man was insulted but then he seemed genuinely upset. No one likes to hear about a dead dog. He shuffled his way into the glass fronted building, conflicted on what to really feel.

Max Caulfield laughed as the man shuffled away. She sat up, pulling out of Chloe's arms.

“How'd our dog die?” Max asked. She stood up and reached down her arm.

Chloe took Max's hand and lifted herself up as she answered the question, “Heart Disease.”

“A broken heart?”Max asked. “How apropos.”

Max and Chloe turned from the building. There was a small crowd of protestors standing behind a small metal barricade.

There was a little metal railing about chest high next to the main doors. Chloe leaned forward and looked out over the crowd.

“What are they even protesting?” Chloe asked.

Max leaned forward against the rail, crossing her arms. It felt good to stretch.  
“They kind of seem all over the place.” Max replied, “Chloe look! That guy has a 'Thanks Obama' sign.” She pointed with enthusiasm at the sign.

Chloe chuckled but then she started to laugh.

“Max, that sign to the left.” Chloe said. Her laughter doubled. She pointed to the left rear of the small crowd, “That guy. He fucking knows!”

Max looked. The sign was rainbow colored with large black lettering. It read: “Lesbians Caused the Vortex.” Max snorted immediately. She hated her own laugh, but she couldn't stop herself from cackling at the sign.

“That is probably the first and last time that guy will be right in his entire life.” Max said.

“Let's get out of here.” Chloe said.

“We still have like 12 hours before we have to meet with Kristen and Fernando.” Max said.

“Let's head home.” Chloe said.

Max smiled.

\-------------------------------------

 

Max and Chloe stepped into the Seattle Caulfield home. Max inhaled the air. The exact smell of home may be different for everyone, but the comfort that it brings is universal. Both girls slipped off their shoes onto the small 'welcome' mat lying next to the doorway. A gruff voice called out from the living room to the left. It was Ryan Caulfield.

“Bring me anything cool?” Ryan asked. He was sitting on the leather sofa. He had spotted the _Pacific Vintage_ bags that Max had in her hands.

Max thought about it, “Would you smoke out of an old wooden pipe if I bought you one?”

“Absolutely not.” Ryan said.

Max rolled her eyes at her father and smiled. He was reading something on a tablet.

“I'm going to run these upstairs,” Max said, turning to Chloe. She pointed to the bags of clothing in her hands. Chloe nodded.

Chloe walked into the living room. She sat down in the recliner.

Ryan lifted his head up from the tablet and looked at the girl. His eyes narrowed.

"I have a pair of jeans just like that." He said.

Chloe looked down at the pair of jeans. "These actually are yours." She chuckled. Ryan could see that she was nervous.

Ryan smiled, "Too tall for Max wear huh?"

Chloe brought her left hand to the back of her neck, "Yeah."

Ryan stood up from his place on the leather sofa, tossing the tablet down onto the leather.

"I think I heard something when you pulled up." Ryan said. He stepped to one of the windows in the front of the house. He was clearly looking at the old Chevy in the driveway. "I am going to open the garage. You wouldn't mind if I took a look under the hood of that old beast?"

Chloe smiled at Ryan's choice of words. She spoke, "I wouldn't mind at all. It is kind of my last possession at this point, I need it to keep running."

"It's not your last possession." Ryan said. Her words had made the man frown, "We'll make a trip to Arcadia in a few days and retrieve anything you want or need from your home, ok?"

Chloe nodded. She lifted her thumb towards the truck in the driveway, "I'll pull it in." She went to the door and slipped her boots back on.

Chloe stepped out the front door. Ryan made his way from the living room to the foyer. He grabbed his work boots from the foyer and continued walking forward to the kitchen. On the other side of the kitchen was a door that connected to the double wide garage. Ryan pushed his way through to the garage. He flicked a light switch to the on position. The garage lit up. He pressed a button located next to the light switch and furthermost garage door started rising.

Once the door had risen as far as it would go Ryan heard the engine to Chloe's Chevy roar to life. Chloe pulled into the garage. She put the beast into park next Ryan's car. It was a 2010 Cadillac CTS-V, a luxurious vehicle for a rather rugged looking man.

Max appeared in the doorway to the garage. "Is something wrong?" She asked.

Ryan turned to her and shook his head, "Don't think so, but I can't rule it out yet."

Max was used to her father's aloof answers. Chloe hopped out of the C/K.

Max called to Chloe, "I'm going to take a shower."

"That's cool", Chloe said, "Your dad here is going to examine the beast."

Ryan Caulfield walked to the corner of the garage and turned on a large space heater. He turned at Chloe's choice of words.

"No I'm not." He said. "I'm going to help _you_ examine the beast. Small distinction."

Max sighed and shook her head, "Good luck. If he gets in your head just walk away." Max leaned forward and whispered, "Then you could join me in the shower."

Chloe could feel the embarrassment rising in her cheeks.

"Are you talking smack about me now?" Ryan called out. He had noticed Max's whispers.

Max sauntered off back through the kitchen. Chloe closed the door to the garage behind her.

"How long have you owned this?" Ryan asked. He rapped his knuckles on the hood of the truck.

"Pfft,” Chloe said, “Year and a half now?”

"You know the make and model?" Ryan asked.

Chloe looked slightly offended, "It's a 1991 Chevrolet C/K."

Ryan noticed her offense, "Good." He apologized somewhat, "I wanted to see how much you knew. Chloe could I ask you to pop the hood for me?"

Chloe felt the immediate need to impress him. A tiny bit of nervousness crept up on her.

"I need a screwdriver." she said.

Ryan turned to the back wall of the garage. He produced a flat-head screwdriver from a small workbench.

"The cable is snapped." Chloe said, "You have to pop it like this." She ran the screwdriver along the hood opening, from left to right. She eventually found the little latch. She pushed the screwdriver up, prying the latch. The hood of the truck popped open. Chloe found the small metal rod and hooked it into the hole on the bottom side of the hood. The hood was now propped open. She turned to Ryan with a satisfied look on her face.

"You've clearly done this before." Ryan said. He put on his best impressed face.

"You learn to get shit done when you're poor." Chloe shrugged, "I don't really know that much, honestly. I can change the oil and the air filter. I can do the tires, brakes too, but they're so rusty, fucking thing sucks."

Ryan let out a single long laugh, "Ha." She sounded just like her father. He asked another question, "You been having any problems with it?"

"Chloe put her hands on her hips. She subconsciously stepped towards the heater. The garage was getting chilly. Earth's star was firmly beyond the planet's horizon at this point.

"Yeah. It has a hard time starting, when it rains." Chloe said.

"It rumbles at stoplights?" Ryan asked, "I thought I heard it rumbling a bit when you pulled up."

Chloe nodded, "Yeah it does do that. I figured it was just old."

"The age doesn't help things," Ryan said, "But that is never the heart of the problem, well, until it is. Sounds like you have a cracked distributor cap. That is a common problem on early nineties Chevy trucks."

Chloe nodded, waiting for further instructions.

"I'll show you." Ryan said. He pointed the distributor cap out to Chloe. She followed his explanation the best she could.

Ryan took the keys from her and started the truck. It started fine. Ryan cut the engine back off. He stepped into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a bottle of water.

"This is the easiest test." Ryan said. He opened the bottle of water and poured it all over the distributor cap."What do you think will happen if I try to start it?" he asked.

Chloe knew the answer, "It won't turn over." Ryan tossed her the keys. Chloe hopped into the cab and tried to start the engine. The nauseating grinding of the starter was the only answer to the turning of the key. Chloe hopped out of the truck.

Ryan motioned for her to stand beside him at the front of the vehicle. Chloe joined him.

"What's the difference?" Chloe asked, "I mean, like, what is happening?"

Ryan was happy to explain the answer, "The water is causing a short beneath the distributor cap, it usually means that the wiring beneath the cap is exposed as well." He leaned forward and knocked his knuckle against the cap. "In the nineties they made these things out of plastic. The problem is that over time the plastic wears out. It's because of the temperature difference going from a cold winter morning to a heated truck engine. They always crack, given enough time."

Ryan pointed to the back wall of the garage, "We're going to need electrical tape, and that..." Ryan paused, he lean back over the engine and looked at cap, "That philips head on the bench, nope, that third one. Also that can of air." Chloe was grabbing the pieces of instructed equipment.

Chloe handed Ryan the screwdriver. He looked at it in his hands for a moment. He handed the screwdriver back Chloe.

He pointed to where she should begin.

"I'm going to get your shirt dirty." Chloe said.

"Fuck that shirt." Ryan said.

Chloe smiled. She began to undo the screws to the cap. They were coming very easily.

Ryan watched her with a smile on his face. "You know your dad always said he wanted you to have a truck. He said he wanted you to be safe on the road. He'd be pretty glad you have this. He actually had a pretty similar truck when we started out in construction 'back in the day.'"

Chloe smiled as she continued to work at the screws seated around the little black box. Ryan had made her feel cool. He had done it with such a warm thought as well. It was nice to think about William without the focus of the conversation being on his loss.

Chloe asked a question, "You two worked together?"

"There wouldn't be a _Little Dublin Construction_ without him." Ryan said, "We were originally partners right out of high school."

Chloe continued to collect the screws. She handed a fist full of them to Ryan. She paused, looking at him, "tell me more."

"Well, Bill got sick of it eventually and went to college." Ryan said. He himself had not thought about these things for a long time now, "It was the roofing. He fucking hated carrying shingles up ladders. He took what he knew and got his architectural degree."

Ryan continued, "He actually loaned me 5,000 dollars from his student loan money."

Chloe had the last screws in her hand. She turned to listen to Ryan with all of her focus now.

"Yeah, I used that money for the down payment for the original _Little Dublin_ office." Ryan continued his explanation, "I payed him back every cent I owed him. Bill helped me out a lot, well, I guess he helped 'us', Vanessa was in the picture at that point."

"Hold these," Ryan said. He held out his hand filled with screws. Chloe took the screws into her own hand. Ryan wiped his hand over his white cotton undershirt he was wearing. It left a large black smear across the shirt.

"Just watch this part. It might require a deft touch." Ryan said. He lifted the distributor cap up and off of it's location. Ryan took the can of air and sprayed all of the water off of the small connectors of the distributor. The problem was apparent. One of the connecting wires was clearly exposed. Chloe watched in great detail how to apply electrical tape to fix a shorting distributor connection.

"It's not a permanent fix." Ryan said, "You will need a new cap. New cap will come with new wiring too. They might be a bit pricey 20 years later."

Chloe shrugged, "Cheaper than a new truck right?"

Ryan nodded and held out his hand. Chloe deposited the screws into his open palm. Ryan leaned over the open engine block and placed the cap back on the distributor. He began to screw it back into place.

"Would you like to come and work for me?" Ryan asked. His words rang out from his position under the hood.

Chloe felt taken aback by the question. She didn't know what to say.

"Not right away of course," Ryan said, "You don't have to answer now. If you decide to stay, which you are more than welcome to do so, I could easily find you a position at _Little Dublin_ , if you're interested."

Chloe turned from the open hood. She didn't want Ryan to see the tears in her eyes.

"That would be, pretty awesome actually." Chloe said. She ducked down next to the door to the house. There was an open package of blue Gatorade. She bent down and retrieved one, taking the time wipe away her tears, "I need to speak to David first. I don't know what I will be doing yet."

"Of course." Ryan said. He rose from underneath the hood, "I think this thing is ready."

The distributor cap was firmly in place. He tossed the keys to Chloe as she returned to the front of the truck. Ryan dropped the hood into position. Chloe hopped up into the driver side seat and started the engine. It started immediately. The noticeable rumble had seemingly vanished. Ryan Caulfield seemed very pleased with himself. Chloe cut the engine – satisfied in her and Ryan's work.

Ryan stepped up to the driver side door, "I'm going to have you back this out and I am going to pull Vanessa's Mercedes in. I saw her pull up about a half an hour ago. You should head upstairs and wash up. I think she is making pasta salad."

Chloe nodded, "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me when you did half the work." Ryan said. He walked out of the open garage door.

Chloe backed the truck out of the garage and parked it in the driveway. Ryan pulled Vanessa's 2012 Mercedes BLK into the second garage parking space. Chloe watched as he closed the garage door. She reentered the front door of the house and flipped her boots back off.

Max was in the kitchen watching her mother cook. Chloe felt like she had stumbled into a private conversation. Max and Vanessa both looked up at Chloe at the same time.

"I've got some grease on me," Chloe said, "I'm going to take a shower real quick."

"Sure, the water should still be warm." Max said. Max's hair was still a bit wet, "Dinner should be ready in like half an hour."

Vanessa Caulfield smiled at Chloe, saying nothing.

Chloe smiled back. She turned from the kitchen door and began her ascent up the stairs.

 

 

\---------------------------------

 

Max twisted the towel a final time. She could feel the last bits of water being wrung from her hair. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot. Dark rings had started forming around them.

“I look awful.” Max said, “Way too many tears.”

Max took a step back. The mirror revealed the rest of Max's torso. Max was wearing a suggestive, lacy black bra. _I never thought I'd actually be using this,_ Max thought. She remembered opening it as a gag gift. Of course it was Kristen who had given it to her. She smiled at the thought of her bawdy friend.

 _Would Chloe even like it if I wore something like this,_ Max thought. She thought about Chloe wearing the suggestive undergarment, it was an exciting thought. _I guess we'll just have to find out,_ Max thought. A devilish smile crossed her face in the mirror.

“Oh girl, we gettin' gussied up tonight.”

The voice was Mark Jefferson's. It was his best 'girlie' voice. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

Max was unfazed by his presence. She turned to look at him. Jefferson was in his standard suit. His shoes and socks were off. His pant legs were rolled up. He was applying a layer of bright red toe polish to his right foot.

Max stepped back up to the mirror. She re-evaluated her eyes. She bent down. Her messenger bag was beneath the tiny sink. She began digging through it, looking for cosmetics.

“Tell me Max, “ Jefferson said, “Why are you going through such lengths to impress someone who is already, clearly, madly in love with you?” Jefferson paused, “Oh, and I do mean madly in the worst possible way. The sick, co-dependent, mental-illness, couldn't actually leave you if she wanted to kind of madly.”

Max was standing now, applying cosmetic to her eyelashes. She sighed.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel better about herself.” Max said.

Jefferson had finished painting his right foot's nails. They were bright, shining red.

“Needs something extra,” Jefferson said. He was staring at his nails intently.

Max turned to look at the man's foot.

“Black spots,” Max said, “paint them up like a lady bug.”

“Now that is a good idea.” Jefferson said, “See, we work much better when we're on the same page. Just like this afternoon.”

Max thought about the little boy. She wondered how much Jefferson had actually influenced her decision.

“I can't believe Chloe yelled at you.” Jefferson said, “That seemed pretty harsh. I mean, what does she know about your powers anyway?” Jefferson's tone was flippant, “Travel through time once and you are some kind of expert now?”

“Enough,” Max said. She had a stern look on her face, “She was upset, scared, just like I was. I'm kind of glad it happened.”

Max finished with her eyes. Satisfied with her appearance, she dumped her old clothes into an old white hamper next to the sink. Max left the bathroom and crossed the hallway back into her room.

Jefferson was already in her room. He was sitting on her office chair. His feet were propped up on her bed, his lady-bug painted toenails readily visible.

Max rolled her eyes. She began rummaging through her drawers, looking for something comfortable. She settled on a blue T-shirt with a cartoon slice of pizza on the front of it.

Jefferson remarked, "Oh, I get it, because you want Chloe to think about your slice of pie?"

Max turned her head, Jefferson was nodding his head very deeply with a big, stupid, satisfied grin on his face. Max smiled. _It was actually pretty funny._

"If I admit to what is bothering me will you leave me alone?" Max demanded.

"You know we're the same person right? Any admission to me is just an admission to yourself." Jefferson said. He looked hungry for the confession anyway.

"I'm worried that I can never stack up to Rachel." Max said.

"You should be worried." Jefferson said. His cordial nature was gone, "You're stone ugly compared to Rachel. You're clingy and damaged. You think Chloe wants some excitable little girl as a lover when she already had someone so perfect like Rachel? Even I preferred Rachel..."

Max reached to her bookshelf. She threw the first book her hand could find, a hardbound copy of Steven King's IT. The book landed hard against her office chair with a slap.. Jefferson was gone.

"Fuck you too Mark." Max said. She stopped herself from shaking. She pulled on a pair of black and white striped pajama pants, "I'm over-thinking this shit."

Max stepped out of her room. She walked to the end of the hallway and made her way down the staircase. To Max's delight her mother Vanessa had just walked in the front door. Max smiled and walked up to Vanessa. She took Vanessa's briefcase and carried it to the kitchen table. Vanessa began to pull off her high heeled shoes.

"Hello Maxine, " Vanessa said. "How was your day today?"

"It was pretty good." Max said, "Chloe and I went to _Pacific Vintage_."

Max stepped over to the door leading into the garage. She stood on tip toes to see into the small window near the top of the door. Chloe was bent over the engine block. Ryan was holding a small handful of screws. Max smiled at the image.

Vanessa had disappeared down the hallway towards the laundry room. Max sat down at an extra tall stool found next to the kitchen's island. Vanessa returned moments later. She had changed from her black blouse and skirt into a pair of comfortable looking jeans. She was wearing a white T-shirt with the Union Jack on it.

"Did you see Kristen and Ferdinand?" Vanessa asked.

Max nodded, "Yep, Kristen and _Fernando_ are doing well."

"You used that lunch money?" Vanessa asked.

"Yep, bought Chinese." Max answered, "It was so good, Arcadia didn't have any good Chinese places."

Vanessa walked up andwrapped her arms around her daughter from behind. Vanessa squeezed hard. She kissed Max on the back of the head. Her chin came to a rest on Max's shoulder.

"You're okay?" Vanessa asked.

Max thought about the answer. She wanted to say that she was pretty fucking far from okay. She might in fact be the least okay that she had ever been in her life.

Max sighed, "It's nothing that time won't fix."

Vanessa squeezed her even tighter before letting go, "I'm sorry these things happened to you baby."

"I love you too mom." Max said.

"You want some pasta salad?" Vanessa asked.

"That sounds good." Max said. She laid her arms and head down upon the island.

Max watched her mother pull a large bowl of cooked spiral pasta from the refrigerator. Vanessa had boiled the noodles before leaving that morning. Vanessa then pulled two tomatoes and a cucumber from the refrigerator. She turned to a large granite cutting stone and began to dice to tomatoes.

"Is Chloe going to be alright?" Vanessa asked, "We didn't get a chance to really talk to her last night. Did she mention anything about her stepfather? What was his name?"

"His name is David." Max said. Max figured she might as well seize the opportunity, "I think we are going to drive back to Arcadia tomorrow."

Max lied, "David said that the house was destroyed and there are some thing that Chloe needs to get." Max knew what strings to pull when talking to her mother, "There are things William left for Chloe that can't be replaced. Some of Joyce's things that came from Chloe's grandmother too, like photographs. Things like that. Irreplaceable things."

Vanessa's shoulder slumped over. It was like Max had put a big weight on her.

"I can't even imagine something like that." Vanessa said, "It would be awful."

"It is awful." Max said. Max was fiddling with a salt shaker on the counter, "Chloe is strong. Stronger than I ever could be. She's brave, and funny, and wonderful." Max immediately felt embarrassed at her words. The words had just welled up from her heart and slipped out of her mouth.

"She's wonderful?" Vanessa asked. The phrase seemed a bit odd to her. Vanessa turned to face Max. Max felt herself turning red under her mother's playful stare.

Max couldn't stop herself from smiling, "Well yeah, she's my best friend."

Vanessa crossed from the cutting board to the island. She leaned forward on her elbows so that she was eye level with Max.

"Your best friend huh?" Vanessa teased.

Max buried her face in her folded arms. "Uggghhh, I hate it when you do this." Max said.

The front door opened. Max raised her head. Vanessa and Max both watched as Chloe entered the front door and kicked off her boots. Her shirt was smeared with a few streaks of black grease. Chloe looked a little stunned as both women affixed their gaze to her.

"I've got some grease on me." Chloe said, "I'm going to take a shower real quick."

"Sure, the water should still be warm." Max said, "Dinner should be ready in like half an hour."

Vanessa smiled at Chloe. She was watching how the blue haired girl looked at her daughter. Chloe smiled back and disappeared from the foyer. She could be heard marching up the staircase.

"You know I had a best friend once." Vanessa said. She turned back to the cutting board.

"Oh yeah?" Max said. Her embarrassment was gone.

Vanessa turned back to the island quickly, "Yeah, he's out in the garage right now."

"MOM!" Max raised her voice. She stood up and stomped out of the kitchen and in to the living room. She was unable to hide her smile.

"Awe, come back Max." Vanessa called after her, "I'm just teasing."

Max stomped off to the living room. She was contemplating whether or not confirm her mother's suspicions. Max knew that her parents would be accepting no matter what. _I'll ask Chloe,_ Max thought.

Max sat down on the large leather sofa. She picked up the the remote and turned on the television. It was something she hadn't done in a long time. Max rolled her eyes. The show _Ancient Aliens_ was on.

"What a fucking joke." Max said. She turned the channel to CNN.

To Max's surprise Walker Williams was on the screen. He had still not showered, his hair was a tangled mess at this point. Max raised the volume of the broadcast. It was an interview. Max recognized the conference room. She had been there only hours ago.

"We've solved it." Walker said.

"Solved what?" the interviewer asked.

"We know how the Lunar Vortex formed." Walker said.

"Could you elaborate on that? Your team seemed to be at a dead end this morning, what changed?"

Walker explained, "We received new data from the ground, a survivor actually. It was the type of information that makes you question the underlying foundation of a problem. We weren’t thinking large enough in scope. Honestly, I can't go into too much more detail than that, not until we get more solid evidence."

The interviewer paused, "So what does this mean moving forward? Will something like this happen again in the future?"

"It is very possible that something like this could happen again" Walker said. "We are looking into creating a detection system for something like this as we speak."

The interviewer started to wrap up the interview. Walker cut the man off.

“One more thing,” Walker said, “The survivor that came forward this afternoon. I just wanted to thank that person and say I'm sorry.”

The video cut back away from the interview. A panel of pundits was waiting. Max turned off the TV. She stood up. Max threw the remote as hard as she could. It landed against the leather sofa with a deafening smack.

She rationalized the anger away. Maybe Walker would call her when he found the note? Max sat back down on the sofa, unsure what to think.

"You okay dude?" Chloe asked.

Max looked up. Chloe's head was sticking out from the foyer. She had retrieved her hat from the laundry. Chloe stepped into the living room. She was wearing one of Max's black T-shirts. The shirt had several zombies on it. Her pants were khaki cargoes. The pants were clearly meant for a much larger person. They were fastened on with black suspenders. Chloe was using the suspenders as a belt only. The shoulder straps were dangling down by her side. _Her signature look_ , Max thought.

"Yeah." Max said. She didn't feel like explaining yet.

"Dinner is ready." Chloe said.

Max stood up, "Good. I'm hungry."

 

\-------------------------------

 

Chloe and Max walked into the kitchen of the Caulfield Seattle home.

Ryan Caulfield was sitting at a laminate kitchen table. He was staring out the front window. Max always wondered what her father was looking for. She would often find him at one of the windows. His white cotton undershirt had a large black stain down the front.

Vanessa Caulfield was at the island in the center of the room. She was mixing a large plastic bowl of spiral pasta and vegetables. An empty bottle of light Greek dressing could be seen in the little white trash can in the corner of the room. Vanessa removed the wooden spoon from the bowl. She set it down on a paper towel next to the container of food. The meal was prepared.

Both of Max's parents looked up as the couple came into the kitchen.

“Oh I love those suspenders.” Vanessa said. Her gaze had fallen to Chloe's wardrobe.

Max turned to look at Chloe.

Chloe smiled at Vanessa's compliment, “Yeah I usually use suspenders as an accessory. They are pretty much required to keep these bad boys up though.” Chloe motioned to her khaki pants, “They were like four bucks at _Pacific Vintage_.”

“Well it sounds like you had a good day.” Vanessa said, “Dinner is done if you're hungry.”

Chloe and Max were both hungry.

Max walked forward and hugged her mother.

“Thanks mom.” Max said. Max let go and turned to the island. Vanessa had a little stack of bowls and forks waiting next to the pasta.

Vanessa stepped past her daughter. She walked up to Chloe. Chloe looked puzzled for a moment. Vanessa wrapped her arms around Chloe in a big hug. Chloe found herself smiling at the unexpected affection.

Vanessa felt the bandages on Chloe's back. She pulled away from the tall girl. Vanessa's concern came out through her voice, “What happened to your back sweetie?”

“A tree branch,” Chloe said, “We were trying to escape the storm and this big tree came hauling ass, flippin through the air. One of the branches caught me right in the back.”

Ryan Caulfield looked up. He was listening to the explanation with intent now.

“It was so scary.” Max chimed in, “Chloe pushed me out of the way.”

Vanessa moved to put her hands underneath Chloe's shirt, trying to examine the wounds.

Chloe wiggled to the side, not allowing Vanessa to examine the cuts.

Vanessa frowned, “I should look at those. You might need medical attention.”

Max scolded her mother, “Mom you can't just invade people's personal spaces like that.”

“It's okay Mrs. Caulfied, they're just scrapes,” Chloe said, “Max helped me bandage them that night.”

The formal change of Chloe's tone change made Vanessa wary about putting her hands on the girl further.

“Okay.” Vanessa said. She thought for a moment, “I want you to tell me right away if it looks like it is getting infected or something. You understand?”

Chloe nodded.

Max shoved a bowl of pasta salad into Chloe's hands, “Here. Eat something.”

Chloe took the bowl and grabbed a fork. She walked away from the island.

Chloe sat down at the small kitchen table. She was across from Ryan.

“You want something to drink Chloe?” Vanessa asked from across the kitchen.

“Uh, just water?” Chloe answered.

Ryan smiled as he watched the blue haired girl stand up awkwardly. She unsure if she should get the water herself or if Vanessa was offering to grab her some.

Vanessa grabbed a bottle of water and a green bottled light lager beer from the refrigerator. She handed the bottle of water to Chloe.

Chloe thanked her, reseating herself. Vanessa placed the beer in front of Ryan. She leaned down and kissed the man on the lips. The older couple had lost almost none of their fire in the 19 years they had been married.

“Anything interesting happen to you today?”, Vanessa asked her husband. She began walking back towards the island.

Max arrived at the table with two bowls of pasta salad and a bottle of water. She flopped down into the chair next to Chloe. Max slid a bowl of the dinner across to her father. He smiled and nodded to his daughter.

“I heard a rumor today.” Ryan answered his wife's question, “You remember Sean Prescott right?”

Max almost choked on her first bite of food. Chloe handed Max the opened bottle of water.

“How could I forget?” Vanessa asked.

“Yeah, well, Gerald was talking about the storm,” Ryan continued, “Turns out Pan Estates got completely wiped out.”

“Wow, really?” Vanessa said. Her tone was astonished, “That project has been in the works for years now.” Vanessa returned to the table with her own bowl of food and a bottle of tea.

Chloe had to ask a question, “You two know Sean Prescott?”

“Unfortunately.” Ryan said. He took a swig of beer before speaking, “Sean basically ran us out of town years ago. He basically ran a monopoly in the construction and real estate game. It's the reason we moved here in the first place.”

“I never knew that.” Max said.

“I didn't know it would interest you.” Ryan said, “Did you meet Sean at Blackwell or something?”

“His son went to Blackwell.” Max said, “Nathan Prescott.”

“Oh, I remember Nathan.” Vanessa said. She swallowed her mouthful of dinner before speaking again, “He was such a cute little boy. You actually went to daycare with him.”

Max found herself speechless.

Chloe felt anger welling up at the mention of the boy, “Fuck Nathan.” she blurted out. She couldn't help herself. She looked embarrassed out her outburst.

Vanessa looked guilty for bringing the subject up.

Chloe put her left hand on her head. She focused on eating her pasta salad with her right. She was trying to keep her frustration bottled. A flood of memories cab back to her. Some about Nathan, others concerning Rachel.

“He was a real prick to us.” Max said, “Especially Chloe.” She patted Chloe on the back.

Ryan stood up from the table and walked to refrigerator.

Vanessa looked apologetic for bringing up something painful.

“Vivian Prescott was always a weirdo,” Vanessa said, “Makes sense she would fuck up her kid.” She turned to her husband. Ryan was making a second bowl of pasta.

“You remember that art exhibition she invited us to?” Vanessa asked.

“Pfft.” Ryan said, “That thing was like some kind of sick joke.”

Vanessa turned back to the girls, “Vivian was a big supporter of the arts. I mean don't get me wrong, we are far artsier than most families, but it was like Vivian's hobby you know?”

Max nodded.

Vanessa explained,“One day, while I was dropping you off at daycare, Vivian gives me a flier. She invited me, and all the other parents, to see her exhibition. Apparently, some town in Washington had a gallery and they were going to put up a few of her pieces. It had been awhile since your father and I had been out so I figured it might be an okay time. Maybe we could get some culture that wasn't just another local grunge act.”

Max noticed as Ryan rolled his eyes behind his wife's back. He returned to his seat with a fresh bowl of pasta salad. He placed a new beer down in front of himself. He placed a second beer on the table and pushed it across the laminate to Chloe. Chloe smiled as the beer came into her cone of vision. She looked up but Ryan. He seemed preoccupied with eating his second helping of food. Chloe twisted the bottle open and took a swig.

“Was it photography?” Max asked.

“They were paintings,” Vanessa said, “When I think about it now. . . It was so inappropriate. All of her paintings were so gross. I can't believe she handed those fliers out at daycare.”

“Describe them.” Max said. She was beyond intrigued now.

“Hmm.” Vanessa leaned back in her chair and let her eyes wander to the ceiling. It had been a long time since she had thought about Vivian's paintings, “Well, they were all black and white, except for the color red. I remember that very clearly. It was the most interesting thing about them. The exhibition was titled “Release”. All of her paintings were very dark. I remember there was one of a lamb being cut in half by two naked men. There was a beautiful girl beneath the lamb. The girl was getting soaked by the lamb's blood. It was bright red and vivid. It kind of made you ill looking at it.”

Max felt her expression becoming more distressed as her mother described the painting.

“I mean, I get it. It's a take on the phrase 'sacrificial lamb' right?” Vanessa said, “Probably about the loss of innocence or something, it just felt very strange to me is all. It's like you could feel Vivian's obsession coming out through the painting.” Vanessa grew quiet thinking about the painting, “I dunno, I pulled you out of daycare a few weeks later, not because of Vivian or anything, we didn't have much money back then, but I thought about that painting sometimes. I guess you really can't know what people are thinking about.” Vanessa trailed off. She turned her eyes to her food.

Max felt herself doing the same as her mother. She looked down and focused on the last of her pasta.

Ryan rose from the table again. He took Chloe's empty bowl without a second thought.

“Max, I offered Chloe a job today.” Ryan said. He placed the empty dishes into the dishwasher and returned to the refrigerator a second time.

Max looked up from her food. She turned to Chloe. “ _Little Dublin_?”Max asked.

Chloe smiled as she took another drink of her beer, “I mean, I would look pretty rude with a tool belt on, you gotta admit.”

“You don't have to work if you don't want to...” Vanessa started.

“I want to.” Chloe interrupted, “I want to work. I don't think I could go back to school. Not for awhile at least.”

Vanessa stood up, her bowl was empty now. She motioned for Max's. Max handed her mostly empty bowl to her mother.

“Whatever you want Chloe.” Max said.

Ryan was leaning over the island, a third beer in his hand.

Vanessa put her handful of dishes into the dishwasher.

“Your going to Arcadia tomorrow right?”Vanessa asked.

“I told her.” Max said to Chloe. She turned to her parents who were on the other side of the island, “Yeah, Chloe just needs to get a few things. Kristen is actually going to go with us.”

“The three of you should be fine.” Ryan said, “Just be aware of rubble and downed power lines. Most of that should be cleaned up by now. You're just driving there and back?”

“I think we might stay a night or two.” Max said. She hadn't considered the question. “We can stay at my dorm. There's no classes, but the students are still in the dorms.”

“I can go with you,” Ryan suggested.

Max was resolute in her answer, “Thank you dad, but this is something we have to do ourselves.”

Ryan nodded his head in response, “I understand. I'm okay with it. You're mother was actually telling me about it before dinner.”

Max felt a massive amount of relief. “Thank you,” She said.

“Call me if you need anything,” Ryan said. He knew he didn't have to say it.

“We need to get ready for tomorrow,” Max said. She turned to Chloe, “You ready to pack?”

“Sure.” Chloe said.

Max stood up from the table. She walked around the island hugged her parentsand and bade them goodnight. The Caulfield's said goodnight to the pair. Ryan took the empty bottle from Chloe. They listened to Max and Chloe's footsteps as the girls climbed the stairs.

Ryan turned to Vanessa who was now sitting on the counter-top of the island. The dishes were put away.

“What do you think about her?” Vanessa asked. She valued her husband's insight above anyone's.

“Well, she reminds me of Bill, that's for sure.” Ryan said, “She seems like a nice enough kid. Maybe a bit troubled, but not hopeless. They should be fine going to Arcadia.”

“I'm pretty sure our daughter is gay.” Vanessa said, “The way they look at each other.”

Ryan laughed, “Well we did send her to art school...”

Vanessa snorted, “That's terrible.” She pulled Ryan closer to her, “You're okay with it?”

“Whatever Max wants.” Ryan said. He wrapped his arms around his wife. It was a firm hug.

“I still feel like Max's hiding something.” Ryan said.

Their conversation continued.

 

 

 

\-----------------------------

 

Chloe sat down in Max's office chair. She spun the chair, letting her feet come to rest on Max's bed. She sank back into the office chair, letting her weight sink into the leather material.

Max closed her door. She walked forward to her bed. She let herself fall face first directly onto the mattress. The mattress was bare. It had been stripped earlier that day. Max didn't care. It felt good to lie down. Max pushed out a long breath into the material.

Chloe pushed her socks off with the balls of her feet. She kicked the socks to the floor. Chloe rubbed her feet together; She was experiencing the feeling of freshly released feet.

Max turned over on her side, propping up her head on her hand. She looked at Chloe's feet. The blue haired girl had her eyes closed; She was not paying attention. Max reached out and dragged her first two fingers across the bottom of Chloe's foot.

Chloe felt a shiver run down her spine. She recoiled, pulling her feet off the bed with haste.

“Calm down there Quentin,” Chloe said. She smiled at Max.

“You were always ticklish,” Max said. Her grin was playful.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, “It was such bullshit. You would always threaten me to get your way.”

“It was the only way I could get you to listen,” Max said.

“I think I just wanted you to put your hands on me,” Chloe said. She was turning a bright shade of red, “I didn't realize it at the time. Thinking about it now, it's clear as day.”

Max pulled herself up and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I thought about things like that,” Max said, “Wednesday night, after we got back from the pool. I could barely sleep, laying in your bed. I knew. I knew I was falling in love with you. You were snoring. I kept thinking about our childhood. There were a lot of little things.”

“Like what?” Chloe asked.

“Well, scary movies,” Max said, “You remember?”

“It was a weekly ritual,” Chloe said, “Fright Film Friday.”

“Fright Film Friday,” Max said. Warm nostalgia poured over her. She had not thought about that phrase in a long time. Max spoke, “Think about those nights. We always started off with our own blankets, on separate ends of the couch.”

“You always found an excuse to make it under my blanket.” Chloe said. She couldn't contain her smile thinking about the past.

“I remember it so clearly,” Max said, “We would always wrap our arms around each other. I can still feel it; Our hearts were beating in our chests. That aching, pounding feeling. It was never the movie; _Dark Water_ isn't that scary. I didn't understand until last week: You were always the reason my heart was racing.”

Both of them stood. Max took a step forward. She reached up, wrapping her arms around Chloe's shoulders. Chloe put her arm around Max pulling her up for the kiss. Chloe stepped forward. Max fell down onto the bed. She pulled Chloe down on top of herself.

“Argh, fuck!” Chloe yelped.

Max felt Chloe go stiff above her.

“What's wrong?” Max asked.

“My back,” Chloe said, “I think I tore one of the stitches, move Max.”

Max shimmied out from underneath Chloe. She watched as Chloe laid flat on her stomach, perpendicular across the mattress.

“I'll take a look.” Max said. She laid her hand on Chloe's shoulder, “I'm taking the shirt off.”

Chloe reached up and pulled off her beanie. She tossed it across the room where it landed on Max's dresser. Max helped Chloe pull the zombie shirt up and off of her body. Max tossed it onto the ground by the foot of the bed.

Chloe's back was covered in bandages.

“Chloe,” Max said, “This looks pretty bad. We should have taken you to a doctor.”

“It's not that bad,” Chloe said, “Don't be a wimp right now. The big bandage, could you pull it up and see what is happening? It hurts like a motherfucker.”

Max undid the clasp to Chloe's bra. She looked at the large bandage near the center of Chloe's torso. The bandage itself was made of gauze. The guaze was being held in place with an outline of medical tape. Max pulled the tape up.

“Ouch!” Chloe called out.

“Sorry.” Max said, flinching at Chloe's outburst.

Max examined the wound. There were four neat stitches running along a large cut. The bottom most stitch had come lose. Max identified the problem immediately. A little chunk of glass was shining brightly, catching the reflection from Max's lamp.

“There is a little piece of glass,” Max said, “Wait here, I'm getting tweezers.”

Chloe laid her forehead down on the mattress. She buried her head in her arms.

Max left the room. She returned a few moments later with a pair of silver tweezers and a small brown bottle. Chloe frowned at the small brown bottle.

“It's peroxide,” Max said.

“I'm glad it's not alcohol.” Chloe said. She looked relieved, “Once is enough today.”

Max climbed back onto the bed. She sat cross legged once again, leaning over to look at the wound. She removed the small shard of glass, making sure to disinfect the area before and after. It was painful but nothing Chloe couldn't handle. As soon as the shard was pulled Chloe felt immediate relief.

“That was it.” Chloe said. She pulled in and released a large amount of air.

“I can retie this stitch,” Max said, “Hold on.” She poured peroxide on her hands and proceeded to make a simple knot where the stitching had snapped. She watched as the gap in Chloe skin closed together, “There. That should stop it from scarring too bad.”

“Maybe it'll be a cool lightning bolt scar like Harry Potter.” Chloe said.

Max placed the bandage back into place. The wound had not bled much at all since that afternoon. _Fernando knew what he was doing,_ Max thought.

“That scar would look pretty sweet with your tats,” Max said. Max ran her hand down Chloe's arm. Chloe leaned the right side of her body towards Max, allowing the girl to look at the tattoo in detail. Her tattoo ran from beneath her elbow up to her right shoulder, almost making it onto her neck. The art was colorful, complex. A complex tropical plant with bright red flowers. Bright blue butterflies were landing on the flowers. A single red ribbon lay scattered throughout the green leaves of the plant. On Chloe's upper arm there was a bright golden skull hidden in the center of plant itself.

Chloe reached back and fastened her black bra. She rose back to her knees, conscious of her back.

“I thought you didn't like tattoos,” Chloe said.

“I like _your_ tattoos.” Max said.

Chloe reached into the back pocket of her khaki pants. She produced a sandwich bag. Inside there was a bic lighter and a single joint.

“I wasn't going to tell you I had this,” Chloe said, “My back hurts though, and I figured maybe it would be a nice way for us to get to sleep tonight,” Chloe looked unsure, “I know you don't like smoking though.”

Max held out her hand, asking to see the tiny bag. Chloe handed it to her. Max opened it and placed her nose on the inside. She inhaled deeply. Max loved the smell of marijuana, even though she had never tried it. She had always turned Fernando down. Once Vanessa had received a small bag of weed from a client as a thank you. Max remembered her parents sitting on the back patio, passing a blunt back and forth. Upon being caught, Vanessa had offered Max a chance to try it. _Why did I say no?_ , Max thought, _It seems so trivial now._

“I'm done giving a fuck,” Max said, “I just want to feel good for awhile.”

“You just summed up the last 5 years of my life,” Chloe joked. She had a massive grin on her face. Chloe clapped her hands together, “ooh, Max this is going to be so fun. Pull the chairs to the window.” She grabbed the baggie back from Max.

Both of them got up from the bed. Chloe went to the office chair, first stopping to put her shirt back on. Max grabbed a small wooden chair sitting next to her tea table. Max pushed the window open. The breeze came pouring into the well insulated room, cool, refreshing. Chloe rolled the chair across the bedroom. Max couldn't help herself from thinking about alternate time line Chloe and her wheelchair. _She loved me there too,_ Max thought, _Even if I became a douche nozzle._

“Okay Max,” Chloe said, “You're a photography wiz. This here is my area of expertise.”

“Chloe Price, Weed Genius?” Max asked.

Chloe opened the sandwich bag. She took the joint and lighter from inside. She brought the cigarette to her lips and lit it, pulling air in.

“Weed Genius is my rapper name,” Chloe said. She exhaled smoke out the open window.

Chloe handed the joint to Max. Max took it and brought it to her lips. She drew in air through her lungs. Max began coughing, smoke pouring out her nose.

Chloe giggled, “Whoa, slow down there dude, way too much air. Pull it in slow, like this.”

She took the joint back from Max, waited for the girl to stop choking, and then demonstrated.

“See, nice and easy.” Chloe said.

Max took it and tried to replicate the action.

Warm smoke first filled her mouth, she then pulled it down to her lungs. Max breathed out from her nose, a large plume came billowing out.

“I did it.” Max said. She was beaming. Chloe gave her a proud look.

“Hit it again,” Chloe said. She kept speaking as Max took another drag, “There are basically two types of weed. One that gets you going and one that puts you out.” Chloe could feel the old familiar buzz starting to grow in the back of her head, “We probably won't be able to move in about ten minutes.”

Max was starting to feel it. _My arms are heavy,_ She thought. She handed the joint back to Chloe. _This chair sucks,_ Max thought. She stood up with great effort and sat down on the windowsill. She stared out at the street. It was calm, peaceful, and dark. Her mind was clear, maybe for the first time in days. Waves of euphoria washed down her skin. She sat and enjoyed the feeling.

Chloe tapped the ashes of the joint into the little plastic baggie. She snuffed the end of it out and resealed it. She pulled the office chair close to the window. She reached out her hand and touched Max's shoulder. Max enjoyed the warm sensation.

“Your parents aren't going to flip if they catch us doing this are they?” Chloe asked.

“No idea,” Max said, “I'll just have you hide in the closet if my dad comes knocking.”

“Your dad is way cooler than David,” Chloe said, “He'd probably just want to hit it.”

Max laughed. _She's probably right,_ Max thought.

“Your parents are such wonderful people Max.” Chloe said, “I can't believe your dad offered me a job today.”

“I told him you were important to me.” Max said. She pulled Chloe's hand into her lap and squeezed it.

“I'm not sure how I would feel about you being around all those cute Irish construction boys all day.” Max said, “Even if you do look rude with a tool-belt.”

Chloe pulled her chair even closer. She leaned in and kissed Max on the neck. The feeling of Chloe's lips were electrical.

Chloe whispered in Max's ear, “I think I'm more into the down to earth, freckled, Irish girls.”

Max felt her temperature rising dramatically. She wondered how much of the feeling was due to the marijuana.

The windowsill put Max a few inches taller than Chloe. Max turned; She leaned forward, ran her hand through Chloe's hair and kissed her on the forehead. Max felt Chloe's hand on her hips. They were squeezing firm. Max brought her face down to Chloe's lips. It was more than just a kiss. Max felt her heart pounding as their tongues touched. The smell of marijuana and shampoo hung on the air between them. Max pulled her lips away. Chloe's warm breath cascaded down her neck. Max pulled in cold air from the window. Chloe was waiting for her to return. Max placed her arms on Chloe's shoulders and leaned forward. Their mouths were locked together again.

After a moment Max felt something wet on her forearm. She opened her eyes and pulled away. Tears were pouring down Chloe's face, falling onto Max's outstretched arms.

“What's wrong?” Max asked. She was panting.

Chloe regained her breath, tears still falling down her face.

“I'm so scared Max,” Chloe said, “ I haven't been this scared in a long time.” Chloe took Max's hands in her own, “I felt hope today. Waking up with you. Meeting new friends. Your parents kindness. I have something to lose again. I'm afraid all of this is some dream. I could wake up at any moment and it would be gone.”

“ I can't stop thinking about Kristen's words,” Chloe said, “ _I've been fated to die._ ”

“It won't happen,” Max said, “I won't let it happen. I changed your fate once already. I''d break time itself before losing you again.”

“Don't say that.” Chloe said. She found Max's words frightening.

“I mean it,” Max's voice was stone. Her eyes were fiery, “That mother this afternoon. I wasn't going to let her lose her child and I won't let myself lose you. I have nothing without you, Chloe. I'm never going to become that woman, hopeless, broken in the street, not while I have the ability fight. I won't let it happen to her, I won't let it happen to me, and I won't let it happen to you. I'm fighting for a reality worth living in, a reality where both of us can be happy. It has to be out there Chloe. I'll keep digging until I find it, and if it turns out there isn't one worth a damn then I'll burn all of them to the ground.”

Max buried her face into her palms. She was sobbing. Chloe let herself fall out of the chair and to her knees. She wrapped her arms around Max's torso. She put her head against Max's chest, crying into her lap.

“I promise you that I'll fight too,” Chloe said, “We can find it together.. A place where we can be happy. It has to exist Max, we've already suffered so much.”

“I hope so Chloe,” Max said, “I'm afraid that I might have already damaged this reality.”

Chloe wiped the tears from her eyes. She reached up brushed away Max's tears.

“Then we'll fix it,” Chloe said, “Sometimes you just have to make your own reality.”

“Maybe you're right.” Max said.

“I'll start right now,” Chloe said. She let out a small chuckle. Chloe reached into her pocket. She pulled out a small diamond ring. She held it up so that Max could see it. It sparkled softly in the dim lighting of Max's lamp.

“I took this from the diner. It was Joyce's.” Chloe said,"William gave it to her.” Chloe held the ring up, “Max, will you marry me?”

 


	9. An Excerpt and Writer's note. A comparison with editing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief example of the type of improvements the second edit will bring to the story. Also an update on my personal situation.

It has been close to a month since I was able to update last.

I have moved to a new place of residence and found a new job since the last time I have posted. It was a grueling month but I have finally settled in to the new apartment.

I started the editing process of Chapter 5 and beyond. It has been really enlightening. I wanted to post an excerpt of edited material to preview what the edited writing will end up looking like.

If you follow the tumblr dedicated to this project you know that Life is Still Strange is practice for the writing and creation of full-length books. Editing is one of the most important elements at an author's disposal.

After the remaining chapters are edited I will go through and update them all in one large batch. Future writing that continues the story will actually probably come out at a slower pace than before, I want to make future writing fall in line with a similar quality to that of the edited material.

Thank you so much for your patience and words of support during my transitional period.

\------------------------------------------------

A RAW excerpt from Chapter 5 of Life is Still Strange:

“Oh no, you take your ass right back out the door.” Kristen said.

                The woman behind the long glass counter was named Kristen Giroux. Max hadn’t seen her since leaving Seattle to return to Arcadia Bay. Kristen was taller than Max, but shorter than Chloe. She had a round face with thick black glasses on. The woman had large beaming green eyes which popped from her prescription. Her hair was charcoal black and done up in a pony-tail. She had a voluptuous figure. A Marilyn Monroe type. She was wearing a black shirt underneath her trade-mark, purple button up sweater, which was always left open.

                Max knew she was going to receive an earful.

                “You can’t just drop off the face of the planet.” Kristen said. Her tone seemed playful but the anger was very real, “I see you once a week for like 3 years, clockwork, and you just up and dipset. That’s the definition of rude right there.”

                Chloe was looking around the inside of the small shop. It was filled with hangers. Each rack of clothing seemed to come from a different era. None of the sizes or styles seemed organized at all. Kristen’s small tirade had struck a nerve with Chloe, she felt a bit of anger welling up towards Max.

                “Yeah,” Chloe interjected, “I know the feeling.” The comment was clearly directed towards Max.

                Max felt shamed. Chloe’s visible anger was an extra layer of guilt.

                Max started to apologize, “Kristen I’m so sorry.”

                “Hey don’t worry about it sweetie, I just wanted to razz you a bit,” Kristen said. She didn’t actually intend to shame Max. The unknown blue-haired girl was discernably on edge, “It seems like SLC Punk over here is the one you really pissed off.”

                Chloe let the anger go. She was surprised that the anger had boiled to the surface. Kristen had a natural way of putting people at ease, even while taunting them.

                “Who is this tall drink of salt-water anyway?” Kristen asked.

                Max was going to introduce the two.

Kristen interjected, “Wait. Don’t tell me. I need the practice.”

                Kristen ducked down behind the counter. She reappeared moments later with a small crystalline ball.

                “You still do this shit?” Max asked. Max’s eyes were rolling viciously into the back of her head. She crossed her arms. Max had seen this bit one too many times.

                Kristen motioned for Chloe to step up to the counter. Chloe was unsure if she was willing to play along. Chloe wasn’t even sure she liked the dark-haired girl behind the counter yet.

                “I’m going to read your mind.” Kristen said.

                Chloe turned to Max trying to determine if the woman behind the counter was ‘on the level’ or not.

                “Don’t look at me,” Max said, “This is only a decision you can make.”

                “Yeah, don’t look to her for answers, “Kristen said, motioning towards Max, “That one is a false prophet, it’s been proven time and again.”

                “Fine.” Chloe said, “Tell me what I need to do.” She would play along.

                “The only thing you need to do is believe,” Kristen said.

                “I _believe_ you’re full of shit.” Chloe said.

                “Still counts.” Kristen retorted.

                Max was starting to giggle. Watching Chloe get teased was beyond entertaining.

                “Put your hand on the ball,” Kristen instructed.

                Chloe placed her palm on top of the small crystalline ball. It was smooth and cool against her skin. Kristen leaned forward. She began eyeing Chloe with intent.

Max was hiding her smile the best she could.

                “I’m not getting anything.” Kristen said, “Oh wait.” Kristen pushed Chloe’s hand off of the crystal ball. She picked the object up in her hands and turned it over. There was a tiny black switch seated on the bottom. Next to the switch sat a little gold ‘Made in China’ sticker. Kristen flipped the switch. The little orb began swirling with shades of blue and purple and green.

                “My mysticism is powered by Duracell.” Kristen said, “Please place your hand back onto the orb of power.”

                Chloe couldn’t help but smile as she placed her palm on the little orb, “I’m pretty sure that is a Christmas ornament.”

                “Your head looks like a Christmas ornament. Now focus.” Kristen said. She placed her hand down on top of Chloe’s. She began examining the tall, pretty, blue-haired girl once again.

                “Your name is….” Kristen said. “Zoe.”

                Max snorted. It was not an attractive laugh. Chloe was surprised the girl had gotten so close.

                “How did..” Chloe began to ask.

                “SILENCE.” Kristen demanded.

                “You are feeling confused right now, and slightly angry, possibly indignant.” Kristen continued her bit.

                Chloe was shaking her head. Max’s friend was much funnier than anticipated.

                “Arcadia Bay.” Kristen said. All three smiles faded from the faces of the women.

                “I’m sorry,” Kristen said, “I’ll stop.” Kristen had not intended to mention the recently devastated town.

                “Finish it,” Chloe demanded. Kristen knew better than to fight the anger welling up in Chloe’s face.

                “You lost everything in Arcadia Bay.” Kristen said. Her eyes were cast downward unable to meet Chloe’s gaze.

                Chloe turned towards Max, “You told this bitch everything Max?” Betrayal was written across her face.

                “I didn’t tell her anything!” Max pleaded, “I swear it to you.”

                Kristen clamped both of her hands down onto the orb. Chloe’s hand was locked against the little glass bauble. The bauble was glowing bright blue; it was no longer quietly changing colors

                Kristen’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. Only the whites of her eyes were readily visible.

                “You’ve been fated to die.” Kristen whispered. Her voice was lifeless and monotone.

                Chloe began trying to pull away but Kristen’s grip was impossible to break. Pain was beginning to shoot down Chloe’s arm from the crippling grasp.

                “Kristen, Stop!” Max cried out. She reached for the blue glowing orb.

                The orb began turning jet black. The darkness was spreading from where Max’s fingers had made contact with the smooth glass.

                Kristen let loose a horrifying noise. Partially a gasp, partially a scream, the noise was a sharp, guttural inhalation. It was a noise that made your animal instinct takeover.

                Kristen’s hands fell from the orb. She stumbled backwards away from the little glass bauble, she landed hard against the shelving behind the counter and slumped to the ground.

                Max’s vision had doubled; she was beginning to pass out. Blood was trickling down from her nostrils.

Chloe had been freed from Kristen’s grip. She lunged towards Max. Chloe caught Max before Max crumpled to the ground. Chloe lifted Max by pulling beneath the arms. She sat Max down into a massive wicker chair that was for sale.

                There was a low, howling electronic noise. If you’ve ever heard a massive generator power down, then you know the dread that the slow grinding halt of the last turbine creates.

Chloe turned her head to look for the source of the dangerous noise; the little bauble had begun vibrating violently on the counter-top. There was a vicious sucking noise as all of the darkness inside of the small glass sphere compressed itself into a single point. The room was silent and still for a brief moment. The bauble cracked. It was going to explode.

As the bauble ruptured, Chloe Price was able to turn her back. She leapt over top of Max, shielding the unconscious girl from the blast. Chloe ducked her head down, protecting her own neck, but she could still feel glass shards digging into her back.

Chloe stayed over top of Max for a moment. She was trying to determine how bad the glass had injured her. Chloe raised her head. The bauble was destroyed, only the small wooden base of the object was remaining on the counter. Chloe brought her hand across her back. She felt the alarming wetness of blood. Before Chloe had time to panic she heard the tiny bell above the entrance jingle, someone had come in.

“Don’t move miss!” A voice called out from the entrance to the store.

Chloe listened; she didn’t even try to turn her head, afraid that she may injure herself further. Chloe felt the stranger lifting her shirt up from behind. Chloe flinched a bit as she felt a hand moving across her skin.

“Stand up.” The voice said, “You are okay, it is just cuts, it is more like scratches.” It was a slow speech pattern. English might be the speaker’s second language. Chloe determined it was most likely a Spanish accent.

It was a black haired boy. He had dark brown eyes and round face. His complexion was distinctly pale even though his accent hinted at an exotic background. He had on an all-black letterman jacket and green army fatigues. The boy guided Chloe down into an old rocking chair that was nearby the large wicker.

“Maxine Caulfield?!”  The boy was shocked to see Max’s unconscious figure.

\--------------------------------------------------

 

Now we can take a look at the same passage, edited.

 

\--------------------------------------------------

An EDITED excerpt from Chapter 5, Life is Still Strange:

 

 

“Oh no, you take your ass right back out the door.” Kristen said.

The woman behind the long glass counter was named Kristen Giroux. She was 24 years old. Max hadn’t seen her since leaving Seattle to return to Arcadia Bay. Kristen was taller than Max, but shorter than Chloe. She had a round face with thick black glasses on. The woman had large beaming green eyes which popped from her prescription lens. Her hair was charcoal black and done up in a pony-tail. She had a voluptuous figure. A Marilyn Monroe type. She was wearing a black shirt underneath her trade-mark, purple, button up sweater, which was always left open.

Max knew she was going to receive an earful.

“You can’t just drop off the face of the planet.” Kristen said. Her tone seemed playful but the anger was very real, “I see you once a week for like 3 years, clockwork, and you just up and disappear. That’s the definition of rude right there.”

Chloe was looking around the inside of the small shop. It was filled with hangers. Each rack of clothing seemed to come from a different era. None of the sizes or styles seemed organized at all. There were several glass cases which contained an odd assortment of what seemed to be run of the mill junk: cigar boxes, baby shoes, a jack in the box, a series of knives, a bottle cap collection. One of the cases seemed dedicated to vintage photography equipment. _A Max Caulfield magnet,_ Chloe thought.

Chloe felt like she should be defending Max, but listening to Kristen vent was cathartic. After all, Max had done the same thing to Chloe years ago.

Max felt shamed. Chloe's silence was an extra layer of guilt. Max's guilt began snowballing, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about Arcadia Bay.

Max started to apologize, “Kristen I’m so sorry...”

Kristen could see that Max was tormenting herself about something. She had seen that look on Max's face before.

“Hey don’t worry about it sweetie, I'm sorry, I just wanted to razz you a bit.” Kristen said, “I shouldn't even be joking... everything you must of gone through the last few days.”

Kristen hopped down off of her tall stool and made her way around the glass counter.

“It's good to see you again Max,” Kristen said. She wrapped her arms around the thin girl. Max buried her face into the large woman's shoulder. She tried to say something but her face was muffled by the oversized and scratchy purple sweater, her words arrived as a muffle.

Kristen released Max. Max's eyes were beginning to tear up.

“What did you say now?” Kristen asked.

Max answered, “I said it is really good to see you again.”

Chloe stepped forward and touched Max's shoulder. Max turned to look Chloe in the eyes. It was enough comfort to stop Max's tears from dropping.

“I doubt that all those tears are just from seeing me again, you've been through some shit.” Kristen said.

“It's bad Kristen, an entire sewers worth.” Max said, “Can we talk about it for a bit?”

“You know I'm bad with emotional trauma...” Kristen said, “I'll start a pot of coffee and call Fernando. He's better at that sort of thing and will definitely want to see you again.” Kristen stepped back behind the counter. She produced an old looking french press from an out of place orange cabinet attached to the wall.

“Thanks Kristen.” Max said. The tension fell from her face.

“You two don't have to just stand there and watch me press coffee.” Kristen said, “Have a seat.” With that Kristen pointed to an old wood laminate table that sat in the center of the store. It was round and covered with a white table cloth. Next to the table sat an amusing assortment of chairs: A large wicker, A wooden rocking chair, a plastic banded folding chair, and a doctor's stool. Max had always taken the large wicker chair. A rush of nostalgia came back to her. She hadn't been gone that long from Seattle, but her experiences in Arcadia Bay made her feel like she had been gone for decades. How many Fridays had she spent here drinking coffee, chatting with strange customers, idling her time away?

Max flopped down into the wicker chair. She watched Chloe first evaluate the chair options and then sink down onto the rocking chair.

“This place is cool.” Chloe said. She was looking around at the walls of the store lined with various types of clothing.

Max watched as Chloe looked around the store. Chloe was rocking gently in the wooden chair.

“I should have called you.” Max said. She was leaning forward in the wicker chair now, “I love you Chloe.”

Chloe was taken by surprise. Max's sudden declaration made her blush. She was unsure of what she had done to warrant it.

“I love you too Max.” Chloe said, “I don't want you to feel guilty....” She paused, thinking about how to phrase her words. “I don't want you to feel guilty about anything. Last week or any time in the past."

Max listened.

Chloe continued, “I have decided that I'm glad you didn't call me back then. If you had stayed in touch everything would be different. We might not have fell in love. I might have never met Rachel. Even though she is gone I would never trade my time with her for anything. It's part of who I am.” Chloe said, “It's going to be hard, but this is where I want to be, with you, trying to scrape together a future. No regrets, from either of us, that is the only way this is going to work.”

“Okay then.” Max said, she had a sad smile on her face, “No more regrets.”

Kristen called out from behind the counter, “Black coffee still Max?”

“Yes” Max called back.

“How about you SLC Punk?” Kristen called to Chloe.

“Hella cream and sugar.” Chloe answered back.

Kristen arrived at the little table moments later with two cups of coffee. She handed Max a little white mug with the outline of a little cartoon rocket ship on the side. She then handed Chloe a lidless neon green thermus. Both girls thanked her for the coffee. Kristen then returned behind the counter poured herself a large silver mug of coffee. She returned to the table with her coffee and a small mysterious black box.

Kristen sat down on the doctor's stool, “Well Max, since you're so bad at introducing people I figured it would be a good opportunity to put my skills to the test.”

Max looked fondly at the small black box. She couldn't help but smiling.

“Gwyneth Paltrow's head better not be in there.” Chloe said, eying the strange container.

Kristen smiled. She popped the box open and produced a small glass sphere. It was attached to a small black base. Kristen took the delicate looking object out of the box and placed it gently onto the table cloth. She closed the small black wooden box and placed it down by her feet.

Chloe looked at the crystalline ball. It reminded her of a snow globe. Her eyes finally wandered to Kristen. Kristen was waiting for Chloe's eyes to connect with her own.

“You'll have to forgive my manners,” Kristen said, “I was hoping that Max wouldn't introduce us, this is a far more fun way to get to know someone.”

Max interjected, “I can't believe you still do this shit.” She turned to Chloe, “You don't have to do this if you don't want to.”

“Don't listen to that one,” Kristen said, she had put on, what Chloe assumed was, a Louisiana accent, her words had become slow and deliberate, “Max is a false prophet. It's been proven time and time again.”

“Now that's a sexy accent.” Chloe said. She rubbed her hands together, this was going to be exciting.

“This is my accent for seducing the manfolk.” Kristen said. She reached down beneath the table and produced a large green boa. She draped it around her neck and shoulders, “My name is Lady Kristenella. I am going to attempt read your mind.”

Max took a long sip of her coffee. She was trying to hide her smile. Chloe shook her head at Kristen's lavish movements.

“This isn't some thing where my wallet goes missing half-way through is it?” Chloe asked. She had a skeptical look on her face. She took a long sip from her thermus.

“Usually a consultation with someone as talented and in-tune with the universe as myself could cost thousands of dollars,” Lady Kristenella responded, “But I am willing to waive the fee for friends of friends. Aren't you the fortunate one?”

Chloe's smile was increasing, “I feel so lucky! It's like I've won a small lottery. Tell me what I need to do.”

Lady Kristenella took a deep breath. She looked Chloe directly in the eyes. Kristen's eyes narrowed, her green irises were bright, highlighted by her strong prescription. Chloe felt her smile fading. Lady Kristenella had captured her with a look. Chloe felt compelled to stare at the woman all day.

“I need you to believe in me.” Lady Kristenella said.

The words hung on the air.

The silence was broken as Max snorted into her coffee mug, choking on the hot liquid. A few droplets of coffee fell onto her white v-neck.

“You're so full of shit.” Max said, clearing her throat, “Oh my god.”

“Hush.” Lady Kristenella hissed at Max. She turned back to Chloe and extended her hands out across the table, “Would you please put your palms out for me?”

Chloe pulled the rocking chair forward. She laid her arms out across the table, palms upward.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Lady Kristenella asked, “No. Let me rephrase that _I am going to touch you_. Look me in the eyes while I do so.”

Chloe watched as Kristen reached her arms out across the table. Kristen placed her fingertips gently in the center of Chloe's outstretched palms. Chloe tried her best to keep her eyes focused on Kristen's eyes.

Kristen pushed her fingertips up Chloe's palms and onto the balls of Chloe's hands. Kristen massaged her fingers traveled up Chloe's wrists and forearms. Chloe shivered as goosebumps ran along the paths where Kristen's fingertips tread. Chloe enjoyed the feeling. Kristen's touch was nice.

Max watched, unsure of what Kristen was trying to accomplish. Max's eyes narrowed. She was shocked at her own jealousy. It was the first time that she had felt it in this way. She knew it was irrational but watching Kristen rub her fingertips along Chloe's forearm made Max feel uncomfortable. Max looked up from Chloe's arms to Kristen's face. Kristen was staring into Max's eyes. Max scowled at her. Kristen smiled.

Kristen pulled her hands away from Chloe's outstretched arms.

“You may put your arms down,” Lady Kristenella said.

Chloe obliged and pulled her arms away.

“I will now use my crystal ball to divine information about you.”

Kristen brought her hands to the crystal ball. She placed her hands on the ball and shut her eyes. Chloe and Max waited expectantly. Several moments passed but nothing happened.

Kristen finally spoke, “I almost forgot.” She flipped the crystal ball over. There was a small black switch sitting in the center of the ball. Next to the switch sat a label that read: Made in China.

Kristen tried to maintain a serious face, but her smile bled through before speaking, “I would like to let the two of you know that my divine power has been brought to you this afternoon by Duracell. Duracell has in no way paid for this tacit endorsement.”

Max rolled her eyes. Chloe found her self giggling under her breath.

“I'm pretty sure that is a Christmas ornament dude.” Chloe said, evaluating the 'Crystalline Ball', “I think there is a pine tree in there.”

Max looked closer at the little glass bauble. The center of the ball had a small crystalline Christmas tree.

“Excuse me.” Lady Kristenella retorted, “That is a pagan tree of life, an ancient symbol of power.”

Kristen flipped the switch and the little glass bauble exploded into color. It began pulsating through the various colors associated with Christmas. She righted the object and placed both of her palms onto the smooth surface of the glass. She turned her eyes towards Chloe once more.

Kristen closed her eyes. Her head turned left and then right. It was as if she was hearing voices, cast from an unseen dimension only perceivable by her.

“Your name is Zoe Price.” Kristen said.

Max laughed. Chloe seemed indignant.

Kristen ignored their reactions and continued reading,“You are nineteen years old. You love pirates. Your taste in music is bad, but not as bad as your taste in men...” Kristen paused, “...or should I say your taste in women?”

Max rolled her eyes. She wondered how Kristen had figured it out. Was it glaringly obvious that Chloe and herself were 'together'?

“You especially have an affinity for freckled hipster girls that break your heart.” Kristen said.

“You're good at this.” Chloe said.

“You've had to handle quite a bit of loss in your life.” Kristen said.

Chloe looked down at her mug. She ran her thumb along the edge of her thermus. Max reached across the tablecloth and grabbed Chloe's hand. They squeezed each others hand's tight. It was reassuring.

“Yes I have.” Chloe said. She stared at the rim of her thermus.

Kristen let her hands fall from the glass bauble. She had a guilty look on her face. She spoke, Lady Kristenella's accent was gone, “I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I said that.” She paused, taking in the downtrodden faces of her companions, “You two seem so sad. I guess it just slipped out subconsciously. I was going to try and keep it fun. This is why I need more practice. I'm sorry Zoe.”

Chloe shook her head, “Don't sweat it.” She reached her hand across the tablecloth. Kristen hesitated briefly before extending her own. “My name is Chloe. It's nice to meet you.”

Kristen matched Chloe's sad smile with one of her own, “It's very lovely meeting you, **Chloe**.”

“How did you almost know my name?” Chloe asked. The handshake ended.

“How could I not? I am friends with Max Caulfield.” Kristen responded, “The first year I knew Max you were pretty much all she would talk about. How much she missed you, how she wished you were here, mostly about how guilty she felt about having to leave you behind. Eventually Fernando and myself had to start rolling our eyes at the mention of your name.”

Chloe turned to look at Max. Max was blushing deep red. She turned away from Chloe's gaze, embarrassed that Kristen had exposed her so easily.

Max exhaled deeply before turning back to look at Chloe, “I told you that I never forgot. I meant it.”

Chloe looked away from Max. Her frustration was clearly visible. Chloe could feel the absolute love welling up in her stomach but at the same time the hurt of Max's abandonment came flooding back. Chloe took a deep breath, trying to push away dark thoughts from the past.

Kristen was running her hands along the crystal ball, the personal nature of the conversation had started to make her feel somewhat uncomfortable.

Chloe would never be able to tell you why she did it, but she reached out and placed her palm squarely on the round glass object.

The soft pulsating glow of the Christmas decoration turned from red to bright, brilliant blue. Chloe stared into the object, transfixed. The hue and brilliance of the orb intensified further. Chloe wanted to pull her hand from the object but she could not find the willpower within herself to do so. She brought her other hand to the orb, touching it on two sides at once.

Kristen's hands clamped down over top of Chloe's. Her grip was hard, fierce, almost violent in nature. Chloe spasm'd in pain. It was as if Kristen was trying to crush her hands.

Chloe let out a gasp from the pain. Max stood up from the wicker chair, pushing the seating backwards against a rack of clothes. She was unsure of what was happening.

“Kristen let go.” Max demanded. She looked at her friend, trying to figure out what was happening. Max was terrified at what she saw. Kristen's eyes had rolled into the back of her head. Her eyes were inhumanly wide, pure white. Kristen's round shaped glasses magnified the effect. To Max , Kristen's eyes had become two brightly glowing white moons. The brilliant blue orb reflected in the glass of Kristen's lens, two ghost irises in the dead lifeless stare.

Kristen opened her mouth, her voice came out as a sickening croaking noise, “You've been fated to die.”

Chloe jerked her arms. She was wrenching, trying viciously to free herself from Kristen's crushing grip.

“Kristen stop!” Max yelled. She put her arm out and tried to pry Kristen's hand from Chloe's.

Max's fingertips brushed against the cold smooth surface of the glass.

Darkness spread across the surface of the glass. It originated from where Max's flesh had made contact. A squid injecting ink into the water is the only apt comparison. Black clouds of darkness spread from Max's fingertips across the small glass bauble.

A low, dull humming noise began to pour out from the bauble.

Max felt her neck muscles clamping, turning her head unwillingly towards the glass ball. A searing, burning pain flooded Max's mind. She felt her eyes rolling into the back of her head. The pain was too much to bear, she passed out, falling backwards into the wicker chair.

Kristen let out a long, gross sucking noise, trying to breath in air. She fell backward off of the stool and onto the ground, releasing Chloe's hands.

Chloe stood, she did not remove her hands from the small crystalline bauble. She leaned forward looking at the darkness covered orb.

A series of images appeared in the darkness of the orb. A deer, a butterfly, a black obelisk, a knife. The orb began humming even louder. Chloe could feel that it was starting to move from the vibrations. Another series of images came across the dark orb: An angry picture of a face, a series of car accidents, a large crag in the earth. Chloe put it together, she was seeing destruction. Seattle had fallen into the earth, a massive pit opening beneath the very foundations of the city. Terror ran through Chloe's body. She felt nauseous, the spit began coating her mouth, a cold sweat penetrating her skin.

The orb cracked violently, black steam began shrieking from the glass. Chloe knew it was going to explode. She turned towards Max. The girl was unconscious in the wicker chair. Chloe leapt over top of Max protecting her face and torso from the incoming eruption.

There was another vicious cracking followed by a horrifying sucking sound. A few seconds of silence lingered in the room before the shockwave hit. The deafening noise made Chloe flinch and bear downward, squeezing Max against herself.

Chloe let out a scream as shards of glass penetrated her back. She stayed still for several moments, afraid to move. She could feel the blood beginning to dribble down her back.

Chloe heard the ringing of the bell above door, signifying that someone had entered.

“Miss please don't move!” A voice called from the doorway of _Pacific Vintage._

 

 


	10. The second edit is complete. New Writing Inbound.

The edit took me far longer than it should have, almost a month and a half.

I lost my job. Moved. Found a new job. Moved again. Met someone new. (none of this is the edit's fault.)

There was a brief moment where I thought about canceling the rest of this project. I am glad that I did not. I look forward to writing new material again,starting later tonight.

I re-read the entire story that I have written so far.The second edit came to 85 or 86 pages. The first edit was 90 pages. I didn’t plan that. It was a coincidence that the two edits are so close together in size.

I didn't change anything in the first four chapters. (aka the first edit.) Those chapters have become eye-sores. It is weird looking back at them. They feel like relics from a time when I  was still grasping at writing straws, even though it was only about 5 months ago.

Chapters 5 and 6 got the largest overhaul. The overall word count of the project grew by roughly six thousand. (That is close to 10%) A large portion of those words were dedicated to flushing out both Kristen and Fernando's portions of 5 and 6. It became increasingly clear that those characters were going to mean something going forward into the story.

Chapter 7 reads better now. Victoria and David's motivations and thoughts are more apparent. Added some stuff on their car ride into Arcadia Bay that would set up where the plot might go in the future.

Chapter 8 actually had writing cut from it. Chapter 8 is my largest chapter to date. I got a bit too indulgent with the characters to see what worked and what didn't. I ended up cutting the drinking story-line. Sunday is already going to be the most bloated day in the story, it was unfocused.

The proposal scene is far better because of the cut, much more focused.

I know now what the purpose of the weekend was. The weekend itself needed to cement Max and Chloe not only as individuals that could survive the mental fallout of the events of Life is Strange, but also as a couple that could theoretically lead happy lives afterward. Both of them know who they are and what they want. When I do a third and final edit much later this year (September?) I fully intend to re-write the first four chapters again keeping that goal in mind. (Those chapters bug me so much. They are chock full of passive voice structure.)

I don't expect even 5% of you to go back and read through this entire story again, that would be an insane demand. Just know that the new stuff is coming now!

I am deploying a new standard for myself. I am making myself edit each chapter in depth before releasing them into the wild. Hopefully there won't be a need for another long drawn out edit like this. Each new chapter written should, in theory, be as well written or better than the material present in this second round of editing.

Now I get to write all the fun stuff! Arcadia Bay mysteries and the exploration of extended cast characters. I get to threaten the total destruction of the main characters I spent so long cementing together and give my readers a stomach ache in the process! How Fun! <3


	11. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 9 - Part 1

Chloe held the ring up, “Max, will you marry me?”

A cool breeze rolled in from the open window. Max felt it brush past her neck. She gazed at the little ring in Chloe's hand. The diamond sparkled in the dim lighting of the old lamp. Max shifted her eyes from the pretty little object to Chloe.

Moonlight poured in from the open window. Chloe's hair rustled in the breeze. Her eyes were blue, sparkling in the pale moonlight. The corner of Chloe's mouth turned upward into a confident smile.

Max covered her nose and mouth. It was subconscious, a reaction to the explosive emotions brought by the unexpected proposition. Max's words were caught in her throat. The first tears started to drip down Max's cheeks. Max's brow contorted. She still couldn't find the words. Max began nodding her head up and down.

Chloe's small smile turned large. Max's eyes were devastating. Relief, shock, joy, all of Max's emotions could be seen spilling out from her sapphire blue irises. Chloe's eyes began watering, unable to cope with the vivid image.

“Y-Yes!”

Max finally choked the word out, her hands falling from her face.

“Oh Yes Chloe, Yes.” Max stammered, “Yes.”

Max reached out her hands. She placed them flat on Chloe's chest, below the neck. Chloe's skin was warm beneath her palms. “Yes Chloe,” Max said, “I will marry you.”

Chloe could feel Max's hands shaking. She pulled Max's right hand from her chest. She brought the hand to her lips. She kissed the back of Max's hand. Chloe slipped the ring onto Max's ring finger.

Chloe rose to her feet. She pulled Max up from the windowsill. Max took a step forward and buried herself in Chloe's arms. She laid her cheek down on Chloe's shoulder.

The cool air continued to wash over them. Chloe was moving her thumb back and forth, caressing Max's elbow. Max could feel Chloe's heart beating in her chest.

They stood there for a long time. Max was afraid to speak. She wanted this moment to last forever.

After a while Max felt a shiver run down her spine. The cool night air had become too much to bear any longer. Max pulled her head off of Chloe's shoulder.

Max looked at the face of her partner. Chloe was calm; She looked content, happy. Max leaned in, silently asking for a kiss. Chloe fulfilled the request, bringing her lips down to Max's. The kiss was short, sweet, and meaningful.

Max said, “I feel like... I've been trying for two days to say how much I love you. It's hard. There's no language for the things I feel.”

Chloe kissed Max on the forehead. “There's no reason to say anything,” she said, “Just say: I love you.”

Max smiled. “I love you,” She said.

“I love you too,” Chloe said.

“It's getting cold,” Max said. She turned to the window, closing it. She pulled her curtains closed.

Max looked at Chloe. The blue hair girl pushed air through her nostrils. Max identified the nose yawn.

“It's late,” Max said.

“Let's go to bed,” Chloe said, nodding. She sat down on the edge of Max's bed. She dumped her pocket's belongings out onto the nightstand: The mostly burned joint, keys, her cellphone, a small Velcro wallet.

Max sat down next to her. They were touching at the hip.

Max held her hand up in the light of the Victorian shaded lamp. She examined the ring on her finger in detail. It was a gold band. The diamond sparkled beautifully. It was high quality but small. _The undersized diamond ring: A traditional symbol for love through hardship,_ Max thought, _It's perfect._

 _“_ Chloe are you sure you want me to have this?” Max asked, “It feels so important.”

“It _is_ important Max,” Chloe said, “That's _why_ I want you to have it. You're the only person I would trust with this. You loved my parents as much as I did. It feels right.”

“I love it,” Max said, “You can tell it was something William picked.”

Chloe smiled. Her eyes were watering at Max's words. “Yeah,” Chloe said, nodding, “It's simple. He liked things like that. I knew you would appreciate it, you two usually liked the same things.”

“It might be a bit big,” Max said, “My hands are freakishly small.”

“Don't say that, “Chloe said, “I love your tiny hands.”

Max giggled. The sentiment was pure but the premise was absurd. “You love my tiny hands?” Max asked. The words were teasing.

Chloe began chuckling, embarrassed at her own words, “Yes. I love your tiny hands Max.”

Max's giggle grew to a laugh. Both girls calmed their laughter, putting on serious faces.

Chloe watched as the corner of Max's mouth began creeping upward into a smile. It was too much. Both of them erupted into laughter.

“It's not even funny,” Max said, trying to suppress her laughter. Their laughter doubled.

Max pulled her arms into her shirt. Only her hands were visible from the sleeves of her t-shirt. She began wiggling her fingers, moving them towards Chloe. It was a ridiculous image.

Chloe's laughter exploded. It started to quiet as she began running out of air. Her face turned beet red. She couldn't draw air back into her lungs.

“Max stop!” Chloe cried out, “I can't...” She turned away from Max unable to look at the girl any further.

Max relented. She pushed her hands back out of her T-shirt. She continued laughing, a random snort always accompanied Max's laughter.

Eventually they composed themselves.

“That felt good,” Max said. Her stomach felt like it had been punched. She pulled the ring off of her finger and placed it on the night stand.

“I'm exhausted,” Chloe said.

Max nodded in agreement. “I'll get the sheets,” Max said.

Max left her room, disappearing into the hallway. She was only gone for a minute. She returned with two large handfuls of bedding. Max fitted the sheets and draped the comforter over the mattress. Chloe put the pillows back into their pillow cases.

“I'm pretty sure we're still a little high,” Chloe said.

Max nodded, “Oh yeah. I can still feel it.”

Chloe tossed the last pillow onto the head of the bed. Max pulled the comforter back and tucked herself beneath it. Chloe unfastened her suspender belt, pulling her pants down. She had on a pair of leopard print silk panties. She then lifted her necklace up and over her head. She placed the necklace on the nightstand with the rest of her belongings before pushing herself beneath the heavy comforter. The smell of freshly washed linens was invigorating.

Max waited for Chloe to get comfortable. Chloe turned, resting her head on her hand, facing Max.

“Tomorrow might be hard,” Max said, “I'm glad tonight was easy.”

“Me too,” Chloe said. She laughed nervously, “I'm really glad that you said yes. I might have thrown myself out the window if you said no.”

Max leaned forward and kissed Chloe on the shoulder. “Hold me,” Max said. Max pulled herself to Chloe, giving her back to the larger woman.

“You know we'd sleep better slightly apart right?” Chloe asked. She kissed Max on the nape of her neck.

“I don't care,” Max said.

“Good,” Chloe responded, whispering, “Neither do I.” Chloe slid one of her arms beneath Max, pulling the girl against herself. It took a moment but they both found comfortable positions. They were eleven years old again, under the same blanket, feeling the others heart beating. Love and nostalgia washed over them. They came to the same conclusion independently: _This is how I want to sleep every night for the rest of my life._

 

\-------------------------

 

Max woke to the buzzing of an alarm. She bolted up in bed. She started looking around the room in panic, trying to locate the source of the obnoxious sound.

Chloe was sitting in Max's office chair, at her desk. Chloe's phone was sitting on the desk. It was vibrating and buzzing loudly. Chloe swiped her finger to the right over the top of the small touch screen. The alarm ended.

“Good morning Max,” Chloe said, turning her head from the desk.

Max brought her hands to her eyes, rubbing them, trying to wake herself. Max stretched both of her arms out. She let her upper torso fall back onto the bed. She yawned.

“What time is it?” Max asked.

“It's six,” Chloe said. Chloe spun away from the desk. She crossed from the chair over to Max's bed.

Max smiled as Chloe bounced into the large bed. Chloe leaned over kissing Max on the lips. They both ignored their morning breath in the name of love.

“Good morning Chloe,” Max said. She squeezed Chloe's upper arm, “How long have you been up?”

Chloe sat up on the edge of the bed. She put a hand out for Max to grab hold of. Max took Chloe's hand, pulling herself up to a sitting position.

“About an hour,” Chloe said. Her words became excited, “Here Max, I've been working on something.”

Chloe stood up from the bed. First, she clicked on Max's lamp, then she grabbed something from the desk. Chloe returned to the edge of the bed. Max pulled herself to the edge of the bed, leaning against her partner.

“Whats up?” Max asked.

“Well last night you said that Joyce's ring was a bit big,” Chloe said, “We can get it re-sized if you want to, but I wanted to try something.”

Chloe held up a long leather loop. It was material she had purchased at Pacific Vintage. It was a necklace. Joyce's ring was wrapped in the leather string. Running through the middle of the ring was a single bullet. Max recognized it. It was one of the bullets from Chloe's necklace. The bullet was entwined with small strips of leather, binding it to the center of the ring without touching the gold.

“It's incredible,” Max said. She took it from Chloe's hand, looking at it in detail.

“You like it?” Chloe asked.

“This is so sweet Chloe,” Max said, “Of course I like it.”

“How long should it be?” Chloe asked, “Longer than my bullets? Shorter maybe? I could make it a choker.”

Max looked at the two remaining bullets dangling around Chloe's neck.

“Shorter than yours,” Max said, “I want people to see it.”

Max handed Chloe the incomplete piece of jewelery.

“I have an idea,” Max said, “Hold on.”

Max went to her dresser. She had a small wooden jewelery box. She opened it. Inside there was an even smaller wooden box. Max grabbed the smaller box and returned to sitting next to Chloe. Max opened the box. It contained a small silver ring.

“I'd ask you to marry me,” Max said, “but I already know the answer.”

Max took the ring from the box and placed it in Chloe's hands. It was hefty.

“This ring was my grandfather's,” Max said, “He gave it to me before he died. He told me it brought him luck his entire life. It's made of silver. My great great grandfather forged it himself over a hundred years ago.”

Chloe held the cool object up. It had some type of foreign language engraved on it. The letters were written in flowery cursive. _Is ait an mac an saol._

Max noticed Chloe's gaze being drawn to the words.

“It's Gaelic,” Max said, “It translates to _life is strange_. My grandfather told me it was metaphor in the native tongue, a play on words. It really means _The world is strange, but it is also a friend_.”

“Put it on your necklace, to replace the bullet. It's a good omen,” Max said, “An ancient Irish proverb; Forged by a pure blooded Irishman. It was given to me with love by a dying man. I'm giving it to you now with true love in my heart. If anything can change your fate, it's this.”

Chloe squeezed the ring tight in her hand. She opened her hand, staring at the shining polished ring resting in her open palm. A tear ran down Chloe's cheek.

“I feel like I'm holding something sacred,” Chloe said, “I'm never taking it off. I'll wear this every day for the rest of my life. We both know I could use the luck.” Chloe put her arm around Max's shoulders. She leaned over and kissed the girl on the forehead.

“We both need the luck,” Max said, “I'm glad you like it.” She had a quiet smile on her face.

“I love it Max,” Chloe said.

“On your necklace,” Max said. She reached over looking at the two bullets hanging around Chloe's neck, “Put the ring in between them. Tie the bullets on either side of the ring. That way, it will look like the ring is deflecting them.”

“I like you in the mornings,” Chloe said, “You get really deep.” Chloe stood and walked back to the desk she sat down and began working on the two necklaces.

“It's starting to get nauseating,” Max said. She laid back into her bed. She spun herself into her comforter. She looked like a spring roll.

“What?” Chloe asked. She continued to work on the meaningful jewelry.

“Just how fucking in love we are,” Max said, “I feel like I'm carsick when I think about it for too long.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Chloe said, “I am.” Chloe let out a small laugh, “Eventually we'll be threatening to divorce each other over the last slice of pizza.”

“You would actually take the last slice of pizza?” Max asked, feigning disgust, “Sounds like irreconcilable differences to me.”

“Yeah fucking right dude,” Chloe said, “You took the last piece every time when we were kids. You always thought you were being so ninja about it too. You would say some shit like, 'Hey Chloe there are only bread sticks left, do you want some?' You weren't fooling anybody. I could literally hear you chewing the pizza from the living room Max.”

Max laughed. She was guilty of everything Chloe was accusing her of.

“So you know that I'm a slice stealer and proposed anyway?” Max asked, “Your grounds for divorce have been denied by the state of Oregon. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.”

“We can't even get married in Oregon,” Chloe said, a sudden sadness coming to her, “I just realized.”

“That would be pretty sad,” Max said, “Except that we're in Washington right now.”

“We can get married here?” Chloe asked. She spun in the chair, excited by Max's words.

Max hopped out of bed; She was still rolled up into her comforter. She hopped forward and kissed Chloe on the forehead, “We can go get married this afternoon if you really wanted to.”

Chloe shot up and wrapped her arms around Max. Max's arms were still rolled up in her comforter. She took the hug, letting Chloe pick her up into the air for a moment before returning her to her feet. Max shook the comforter off of her.

“I'm glad we're not going to get oppressed,” Chloe said.

Max sat down on the bed. She was having an epiphany. _Gay rights,_ She thought, _Those are my rights now. They probably always were._

“They're done.” Chloe said. She turned, holding up two equally beautiful necklaces. She handed Max the wedding necklace. Max slipped it over her neck. She stood up and walked to her door. There was a large mirror hanging on her closed door. Max tucked the necklace into her shirt. She pulled the blue, pizza shirt up and off of her body, she wanted to see the necklace against her skin. The ring was sitting right in the center of her clavicle.

“Damn that looks good,” Chloe said. She was standing behind Max.

Chloe flipped the zombie shirt off. She slipped her necklace on over her head. The large tungsten ring had two bullets tied to either side. The leather spiraled around the ring multiple times like a vine. It sat closer to the middle of Chloe's chest.

“Wait here.” Max said. She went to her messenger bag sitting on her dresser. She grabbed her camera and returned to the mirror.

“This is it,” Max said, “If anything goes wrong I am going to rewind back to this point. We'll tell ourselves to run. We'll warn everyone we can. Then we will get in your truck and go. Deal?”

Chloe nodded once, “Deal.”

Max put her right arm behind Chloe's back. Chloe's left arm came up and around Max's shoulder. They stood tall with straight posture, letting the necklaces rest on their skin. Max held the camera down by her hip with her left hand. She aimed at the mirror and snapped the photo.

 

\--------------------

 

“We look damn good in this photo,” Chloe said. She was the holding the photo Max had taken only moments ago.

“Here,” Max said. She was requesting the photo from her partner. Chloe handed it over. Max went to her dresser. She pulled a small pencil case out from her messenger bag. She dumped the contents out onto the top of her dresser. It contained mostly pens, pencils, a few errant markers.

Max reached into her bag and found another photo. It was the photo max had taken the day before, Sunday, the day of the bus accident. She flipped it over. She wrote the time and date on it. Max looked at the photo of herself and Chloe. _This one is special,_ She thought. She flipped it over and wrote the time and date on the back. She placed both photos into the pink case. She zipped it close. _That's watertight...I hope,_ Max thought, _It probably isn't ocean proof._ Kristen's words were floating through her head. _The ocean is coming._

Chloe was watching Max's actions with interest.

Max turned to look at Chloe. “I can send myself into the past,” Max said, “Any photo of myself. I can send my. . . I dunno, consciousness, back to that moment in time.”

Chloe sat down on the waist high dresser, “Weird. Elaborate.”

“You were angry on Wednesday,” Max said, “We had just found out about Frank and Rachel.”'

“I remember,” Chloe said. She looked towards the ground. The subject would be painful for a long time to come.

“I told you, that I tried to change the past,” Max said, “That I tried to save William.”

Chloe looked increasingly upset. She nodded her head.

“This is how I did it,” Max said, “By jumping through photos.”

“I sent myself back to a photo of us when we were 13.” Max said, “I was my 18 year old self in my 13 year old body. It was so surreal.”

“Wait,” Chloe said, “If you can travel back in time like that. . . doesn't that mean you're immortal? Can't you travel back to that photo again and again and live a completely different life each time? You would become like an omniscient god.”

“Whoah,” Max said, “Slow down amigo. There are boundaries when I go back. It's like... I can only influence things that I can remember about that particular photograph. There are other limitations. It's not as useful as it sounds. I can't just groundhog day the entire planet.”

Chloe looked disappointed. “What other limitations?” She asked.

“After I leave the past,” Max said, “It seems like I take all of my memories and experiences with me.”

“So you can't just send yourself into the past and expect the past you to know everything the present you knows?” Chloe asked, “Did I say that right? Wait...” _Fuck this is confusing,_ She thought, _I can't believe max figured this out on her own._

“No,” Max said, “That's right. You said that right.”

“Well then you can just write a note or whatever right?” Chloe said.

Max answered,“Yeah. It's scary. I don't have control over past 'me' after I leave the past. I came back in time to warn you about Jefferson at the junkyard. When I came back to the present everything was changed. I had to rely on the past version of myself to get things right. It felt like a leap of faith every time I did it.”

Chloe put her hand out. Max moved closer, putting her hands into Chloe's. Chloe began massaging Max's forearms with her thumbs.

“I haven't even told you the scariest part,” Max said, “So, I used this power to escape The Dark Room. It was complicated. I had to relive Jefferson's torture by jumping into one of the photos he took of me.”

“Max that's awful,”Chloe said. Her concern was palpable.

“Wait, Chloe,” Max said, “It was after that. I jumped deeper into the past, before Nathan shot you in the bathroom. From that point I jumped even further back into the past with a second photo.”

“You used a photo to travel to the past,” Chloe said. She was speaking slow, making sure she could comprehend what she was being told, “While you were in the past you used another photo,like, from the past, to travel even farther back in time? That is some _inception_ shit Max.”

“It sounds dangerous,” Chloe said, “It's like the thing that you aren't supposed to do in a science fiction movie, like, crossing the streams or something.”

“I didn't have any other options,” Max said, “I was trying to save myself so that I could save you. It felt like I was going insane trying to get back to you,” Max continued, “You are right though. It was different, the past within the past. It didn't feel right. It was like the world was groaning around me, getting ready to tear at the seams. I felt like I was coming up against some cosmic limit on what I could do. I knew I was experiencing something that I shouldn't have.. It was terrifying. I only stayed for a moment to tear up an old photograph.”

“And you think that is what caused the storm?” Chloe asked, “The Vortex?”

“I do Chloe.” Max said, “I feel like... I can never be sure though. It's too dangerous to ever try it again.”

“I'm glad you told me all of this,” Chloe said.

“I am too,” Max said, “I didn't plan on it. It just kind of, spilled out of me. We needed to be on the same page.”

“You told me you stopped time, when you saved Kate,” Chloe said, “Did you ever do that again, like, in the dark room or in the past? Can you still do it?”

 _When did I tell Chloe that?_ Max thought. She let the idea go, choosing to answer the question.

“I never stopped time again,” Max said, “It was a fluke. I'm not even sure how I did it the first time.”

Both girls were quiet for a moment. They both were caught in thought.

Chloe hopped off the dresser and went to her phone at the desk. The time showed 6:52 a.m.

“Max it's almost seven” Chloe said, “Speaking of time.”

“We're running late,” Max said, “We've got to shower, dress, and pack in half an hour. Kristen will be pissed if we aren't ready.”

“Now that sounds scary,” Chloe joked.

“Oh,” Max said, “It is.”

 


	12. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 9 - Part 2

**I want to throw a brief writer's note in here. There was a moment when Max gave Kate's number to Victoria / David over Skype. I moved that specific moment into this section. It made more sense here. I just erased a few lines of dialogue from Chapter 4 to compensate.**

 

\----------------

 

Victoria's Chase's eyes were bloodshot. She was sitting at an old wooden kitchen table. It was Jim Gates' apartment. The older man would be spending another day in the pines. Victoria was staring at several piles of paperwork splayed out across the dining surface. Anderson Berry's leather briefcase was open, resting on the tabletop.

Victoria was holding a piece of paper in her hand. The black letters that spelled out 'incident report' were starting to run together.

“rrrrgh,” Victoria growled. She tossed the piece of paper back into the briefcase with disdain. She leaned back into the chair. She took a quick look at the laptop. The device had been silent for hours now; It was sitting next to the briefcase. The time was almost seven in the morning. Victoria brought her fingers up to her eyes and rubbed. She brought air into her lungs; It was a massive yawn. The smell of cigarettes flooded her. For Victoria it wasn't entirely unpleasant. She stretched, pushing her arms towards the ceiling. She felt her spine being pulled. She kept pushing until she felt a satisfying crack.

Victoria looked around. The room was small, even though it took up the largest portion of the apartment. The walls were stained yellow; They were losing a decades long war with a smoker. _The fridge is still white,_ Victoria thought, _It's probably older than I am._ Victoria reached over from the kitchen table to a knee-high metal filing cabinet. She pulled open the bottom drawer. There was a half-empty carton of cigarettes sitting atop a pile of old paperwork. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes and an old, metallic lighter. _Jim won't give a shit,_ she thought, closing the drawer. She lit a cigarette from the pack. There was an ashtray sitting on the table. She tapped the ashes into the small brown glass bowl. Victoria turned the lighter over in her hands. It was tarnished, a bit rusty. Victoria couldn't recognize the symbols on it. _Military?,_ she thought. There were words carved into the flip side: _Dying is Easy. Living is Hard._

Victoria continued to puff on the addictive object. She moved her thumb over the metal rectangle in her hand several times, feeling the engraving. David Madsen was sleeping on a brown corduroy couch in the living room. Only the top of his head and his socked feet could be seen from where Victoria sat. Her eyes settled on the image of the sleeping man. _How the hell can he sleep like that?,_ She thought, _I couldn't sleep right now if my life depended on it._

A ringing sound blared out from the laptop. Victoria gasped, flinching at the noise. Her eyes narrowed viciously at the innocent object. The messenger program Skype was receiving an incoming call. Victoria brought her fingers to the touch-pad. She answered the call. It was from an account named 'Noir Angel'.

Chloe Price appeared on the screen. She was sitting in a black and silver office chair.

Chloe started to speak,“Hello? Can you hear –“

“Chloe!” Maxine Caulfield was yelling in the background, “Wait till my shirt's on!”

Victoria watched as Max scrambled to slip a T-shirt on. It was blue with a cartoon slice of pizza on it. _What is she wearing?,_ Victoria thought. She took note of both the lacy brassiere and the pizza shirt. She decided they were both equally tacky, although for different reasons.

Chloe seemed unfazed by Max's words. “Hello?” She repeated.

“I can hear you,” Victoria said, “You can hear me I assume?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said.

“What do you want?” Victoria said. She tapped the ashes from her cigarette into the ashtray before taking another drag.

“Good morning to you too Victoria,” Max said. She had gotten down on her knees next to the office chair. Max's folded arms were resting on the lip of the desk. Only her head and upper torso were visible in the web-cam.

“Where's David?” Chloe asked. Victoria was already agitating her.

Victoria looked towards the living room. David was standing in the large opening leading from the living room to the kitchen. The man had bolted awake at the sound of the laptop's chiming. He looked drowsy. His double pocketed, black, short sleeved shirt, usually neatly tucked, was hanging half-way out of his jeans.

David pointed his finger at Victoria. “Put that out missy, right now,” David said. His eyebrows narrowed at the smug blonde girl.

“Unfortunately he's right here,” Victoria said. She smashed her cigarette into the ashtray, “Hold on.”

Victoria looked up at David. “It's for you,” She said.

“You find anything?” David asked, his eyes turning to the several stacks of paper.

Victoria rose from the seat, allowing David to sit in front of the laptop.

“Not yet,” Victoria said, shaking her head. She looked determined.

“We'll keep digging,” He said. He sat down in the wooden chair.

David turned his attention to the Skype call.

“What's wrong?” David asked, “Why'd you call?”

“There's been a change of plans,” Chloe said, “We're coming back to Arcadia Bay today.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” David demanded, “Chloe, I told you two to stay put.”

Max could see the rage bubbling out of her blue haired partner; It was triggered by her stepfather's impatience. She squeezed the top of Chloe's thigh beneath the table. _David requires a deft touch,_ Max thought.

“David. Listen,” Max said, “We are coming back to Arcadia Bay. We need to know if it is safe or not. We need your help, we can explain when we get there.”

“It's not safe,” David said, “We broke into the police station yesterday.”  
“The police station?” Max asked. She was stunned.

“That's crazy David,” Chloe said. _It is pretty punk rock though,_ she thought _._

“I needed to know what we're dealing with here. I stand by the decision,” David said, “Someone attacked us as we were leaving. He knew who I was. He tried to kill us. He was a professional.”

“A professional?” Max asked, “What does that mean? Like a hitman?”

“Yes,” David nodded, “Like a hitman. An assassin.”

Chloe and Max both fell silent. David's arms were crossed. Victoria was listening to the conversation. All of them began mulling the situation over in their heads.

“We're coming,” Max said, “We have to. It's important.”

“It's not a good idea Max.” David said, “I just told you.”

Max thought for a moment.

“If this person knew who you were David, whats to say that they don't know who we are too? What if there is someone on their way to find us right now?” Max asked.

David didn't have an answer. He hadn't considered it. He felt embarrassed.

“You're right,” David said. He looked like he had swallowed a mouthful of spoiled milk, in actuality it was his pride, “You'd be safer here. You should come, but there are some precautions I need you to take,” David said, “Get a pen, write this down.”

David recited the address, apartment #, and location of the woodside apartment building. Max wrote all of the information down on a pink post it note. David then recited three phone numbers. The first two were for his and Victoria's brand new burner cell phones. The third one was Jim Gates' cell phone number.

“We'll pick up new phones on the way,” Chloe said, “We'll call you right away from the road. About an hour or so from now.”

“Good,” David said, “Now listen, I want you to enter the city from the south. Go two exits past Arcadia on the highway. That should minimize your exposure.”

Max's face grew grave. She had a terrible thought.

“David, do you think my parents are in danger?” Max asked.

Chloe felt her stomach turning at the question. It would be impossible to explain all, or even any, of this situation to the Caulfields.

“I don't see a reason to go after them,” David said, “ But I can't guarantee it.”

“What about Kate?” Victoria asked, “Wouldn't these people go after Kate first? She was _actually_ in that bunker.”

Max felt panic.

“She's in Spokane,” Max said, “We can get her. I can call her right now. We'll go to her.”

“No wait,” David said.

Max had pulled her old phone from her pocket. She paused at David's words.

“You said, she was in Spokane?” David asked.

“Yes,” Max said, “I talked to her on Saturday. She is staying at her aunt's, in Spokane. She's with her father. He picked her up from the hospital before the storm.”

“That's good,” David said, “No one will look for her there. There's no mention of Spokane in her Blackwell records. I tailed her for close to two weeks. If I couldn't find out where her aunt lives I doubt anyone else could.”

Victoria found her eyes narrowing at the mustachioed man.

“That is still really creepy and fucked up David,” Chloe said.

“But,” Chloe said, “it was the right thing to do. . . maybe. We couldn't have stopped Jefferson without your surveillance. I'm sorry. I don't know what to feel yet.”

David was unsure what to say. _Me neither,_ he thought.

Victoria put herself in front of the web-cam, leaning in front of David.

“Max, send me Kate's number,” Victoria said, “Put it through Skype. I will text her on my burner. I'll tell her not to tell anyone where she's at.” Victoria's eyes were watering, “I need to talk to her anyway. I know she'll trust me, even though, I don't deserve to be trusted.”

Max nodded, her face was serious. She dug through the directory of her phone. She read Kate's number out loud. Victoria grabbed a pen from the table and wrote it down on the palm of her hand.

“Ditch that SIM card Max,” David said, “You know what that is right?”

Max nodded her head, “We will, for both our phones, right after we get the burners.”

All of them were fumbling for something else to say. None of them could think of anything else of import.

“Five hours with morning rush hour,” Chloe said. Max began nodding her head. Victoria began nodding her head. Finally, David began nodding his head.

“Drive safe,” David said, “and Chloe...”

“What?” Chloe asked.

“. . . just, be careful.” David said. He had failed the say the words he truly wanted to.

“We will David,” Chloe said. She ended the Skype call.

 

\-----------------------

 

“That took much longer than I expected it to,” Max said, “It's almost seven fifteen.”

Chloe shrugged, “I don't have to shower. You shower. I'll pack.”

Max stood up form her position on the floor. Her knees ached a bit from the hard wood.

“You need to shower,” Max said, “Here, come with me.”

Max reached down and grabbed Chloe's hand. She pulled the taller girl up and out of the office chair. Max led Chloe to the door. She opened it a sliver, peeking out into the hallway. It was clear. Max pulled Chloe across the hall and into the bathroom. Max shut the door behind them. Max pulled her shirt up and off of herself. She stopped. Chloe was staring at her.

“Well, hurry up,” Max said, “We're running out of time, strip.”

Chloe smiled. “What is this you're even wearing Max?” Chloe asked. She took a step towards the girl, motioning to Max's lacy brassiere, “I didn't say anything before.”

Max giggled. “I thought... maybe I was going to... you know, get laid again last night,” She said, “What I got instead was much better.” She brought her hand up to the necklace around her neck.

Chloe pulled her shirt off. She tossed it towards the hamper in the corner. It got caught on the edge of the basket, clinging to the side. Chloe took another step toward Max. She put her hand out and touched Max's hip.

“You could still get laid right now,” Chloe said, “if you really wanted to.”

“You had all night and all morning to make a move, “Max said, “We have like twelve minutes before they get here, so no, getting laid is not on the docket this morning. Get in the tub and prepare to scrub.”

“Fine,” Chloe said. She immediately popped off her black brassiere. Chloe reached up and pulled the newly made necklace off. She noticed Max's eyes wandering to her chest, “No Max, no second guessing. Shower time.”

Max felt her cheeks heating up. _I'm so transparent,_ she thought. A second thought came to her, _Maybe it's only Chloe who sees right through me._ She began stripping herself bare.

Max grabbed two large white cotton towels from a little white wicker rack. She placed them on the towel rack next to the bathtub. Both girls clambered into the tub. There was a thin layer of ice cold water sitting on the bottom of it. They hunched over, bending at the knees in response to the shocking stimuli.

Max gritted her teeth, “I forgot about that.”

“Fucking hurry Max,” Chloe said, “Shit's cold”

Max cranked the hot water on. It began pouring out of the tub head. Max began shaking.

“I feel really attractive right now,” Max said.

The wait for the water to heat up was painstaking. Max put her foot under the water stream. It had finally reached the correct temperature. She turned a small silver handle. Water began rocketing out of the above shower-head. The relief was instantaneous. Their postures slowly transformed from that of a ninety year old man's back into their natural states.

“Feels damn good,” Chloe said.

Max put her head under the stream. She let the warm water permeate her hair. After a moment Chloe stepped forward. She leaned in, using her height to steal the flow of water for herself. Water began falling from the top of Chloe's head down onto Max's shoulders.

“Fucking lame,” Max said, unable to hide her indignation.

“Hash-tag short people problems,” Chloe said, exasperating her lover even more.

They were in direct proximity now.

Max turned her gaze upward. Chloe's eyes were closed. The water was cascading down Chloe's hair and onto her shoulders. Max followed the droplets as they riveted down Chloe's body. She took the time to enjoy the image of her partner. There was a scar beneath Chloe's left arm, near her ribs. Max's eyes slowly wandered back upwards to Chloe's face. Chloe was looking directly at her. Max felt like she had been caught.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” Chloe said.

“Like what?” Max asked. She felt her heartbeat increase in pace.

“Like, I'm some forbidden fruit,” Chloe said, “ Like, you shouldn't have me, but you desperately want me.” She grabbed a bar of white soap off of a metal rack hanging on the shower-head and placed it beneath the falling water, “You make me feel ten times sexier.”

_No sex in the shower,_ Max thought, _Wishful thinking at it's best._

Chloe soaped her hands up with the bar. She began running her hands up and down Max's arms. Max leaned into the contact. The hands felt good pressing against her skin. Chloe glided the smooth piece of soap over the shorter girl's shoulders.

Max turned, giving her back to the tall woman. She felt Chloe's soapy hands run down her back. They snaked their way past Max's ribs, settling on her stomach. Chloe pulled Max tight. Max could feel her lover's breasts pressing against her back.

Max closed her eyes. She felt the soap fall from Chloe's hands, landing at her feet. “Don't stop,” Max said. She brought her hands up to Chloe's. Max was beginning to shake, nervous. She began pushing Chloe's hand's downward, past her navel. She could feel the blood rushing to her loins. The need to be touched was overwhelming.

The door to the bathroom swung open with a woosh of air and a sharp squeak.

Both girls were shaken by the sudden noise. Chloe released Max from her arms. Max let out a gasp in short, ragged bursts, still shaking from the sexual contact. The adrenaline that had been pumping into Max's system shifted gears. The image of Jefferson's blade and his hitchcockian nightmare began playing in Max's head. A dark shadow passed by the yellow and green shower curtain. Chloe took a step forward, ushering Max to step behind her. She balled her fists.

“Good morning Maxine,” Vanessa Caulfield's voice called out from beyond the veil.

Max felt ill, but she was relieved to hear her mother's voice. Chloe let herself relax. She was still wearing a petrified look on her face.

“Good morning Mom,” Max called out to her mother, “You scared me really badly just now.”

The shadow disappeared from the curtain. The distinct sound of the toilet seat being raised was heard. The unzipping of jeans and the shuffling of fabric followed.

“I'm sorry sweetie,” Vanessa called out, “Have you seen Chloe this morning? She's not in your room and her truck is still here.”

“She went to get a newspaper. She wanted to see if there was anything about the storm,” Max lied, calling out past the curtain to her mother, “She always runs in the mornings anyway.”

The sounds of urine hitting still water could be heard. Chloe looked mildly disturbed at hearing Vanessa urinate.

“That's a good habit,” Vanessa said, “Well, your father already left this morning. He told me the state is offering out emergency contracting positions. He couldn't pass it up, apparently it pays extremely well, FEMA money and all that. He wanted me to tell you he was sorry he couldn't see you off today.”

“That's too bad,” Max said. The sentiment was genuine. _I would have liked to see him before we left,_ Max thought. “Mom, could you watch out for Kristen and Fernando, they should be here in a few minutes.”

There was another zipper sound. Vanessa had finished.

“Yeah,” Vanessa said, “You want some eggs or something before I get ready for work?”

“That sounds great,” Max called out.

There was silence from the other side of the curtain.

“Chloe, how do you take your eggs, sweetie?” Vanessa called out. The two sets of clothing scattered across the floor and the multiple towels was more than enough evidence for someone as sharp as Vanessa Caulfield.

Max was mortified. She looked at Chloe. Chloe smiled and shrugged.

“Scrambled's fine,” Chloe called out. She added, “Good morning Vanessa.”

“Good morning!” Vanessa called back.

Vanessa left the bathroom, closing the door behind herself.

Max brought her right hand to her forehead. It was the most embarrassed she had ever felt. It was worse than the time she had peed her pants in the third grade and Robbie Harris had pointed it out to everyone. It was worse than the time she had been turned down for a dance with Kyle Blevins in front of all his friends at the final middle school dance.

“I didn't think I'd ever listen to your mom pee in such detail,” Chloe said. She was giggling.

“It's not funny,” Max said. Her face betrayed her. She couldn't stop herself from smiling as the words came out of her mouth.

Chloe's giggle started to become a laugh. Max's eyes turned to daggers. She shoved a bottle of body wash into Chloe's hands.

“Turn around,” Max said.

“What?” Chloe said.

“Right now,” Max said, “Turn around, don't look at me. I'm mad.”

“awwww,” Chloe said, “Come one Max, don't be salty.”

“Now Chloe!” Max demanded.

Chloe turned her back, obeying Max's request. She began to lather herself with the body wash. After a few moments Chloe heard Max laughing behind her. Chloe answered back with a laugh of her own. She heard Max rinsing her hair.

“Max, I need the water,” Chloe said, “I'm freezing and drying at the same time.”

Max laughed harder. “Fine,” Max said from behind Chloe, “Shut your eyes, no peaking.”

Chloe shut her eyes.

Max guided the blind girl under the stream of water. Chloe didn't open her eyes for the remainder of the shower.

 

\-----------------

 

Vanessa Caulfield stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind herself. She had on her sleeping clothes. Her white union jack T-shirt and an old pair of comfortable jeans. She had a troubled look on her face. She made her way down the staircase at the end of the hall.

Vanessa was unsure what to think. She had just caught her daughter showering with another girl. She descended the stairs, making her way to the laundry room at the back of the house. Vanessa felt anger welling up inside. She kicked a white hamper sitting on the laundry room floor. The basket wheeled across the room, flinging dirty fabric across the floor.

The laundry room was unfinished. There were exposed studs and insulation on the far side of the of the room. The floor was a nasty looking orange and white tile from the eighties. A washer, a dryer, a wash basin, a large white cabinet, trash can, recycling bins, everything you would expect to find in a utility room was present. There was a large stack of new drywall pushed up against the right side of the room.

_I'm glad I didn't shame her,_ Vanessa thought, _That would have been horrible._ Even the idea of confronting her daughter in the shower made Vanessa feel guilty. _She's fucking lucky to have me as a mother._

Vanessa started picking the clothes up off the floor. She set the hamper back to it's proper spot, tossing the clothes back inside. She turned to the white cabinet. There were drawers on either side of the large piece of furniture. A wooden beam ran between the two sets of drawers. Vanessa's work clothes were hanging from the beam.

_Ryan and I were already fucking at that age,_ she thought, _Hell, I had Maxine when I was twenty. It's not like Chloe's going to get her pregnant._ For a moment Vanessa pictured pulling down Chloe's pants only to discover a hidden, erect penis. _It wouldn't matter,_ Vanessa realized. She imagined the scenario again, this time with Chloe as a completely transgendered man. It wasn't the fact that her daughter was having sex that was making Vanessa angry. _I'm actually kind of relieved she found someone,_ Vanessa thought, _She spent so much time alone._

Vanessa grabbed her clothes. She threw them into the drier. She was too angry to try and iron them. She set the machine to 'air fluff' and started it. Vanessa made her way to the kitchen. She pulled out the ingredients for breakfast. She stared into a large white empty bowl sitting on the counter.

Vanessa thought about her daughter. She pictured a pretty little freckled girl, no more than four years old. The girl was wearing a bright red dungaree jumper over top of a yellow shirt. It was the porch of a daycare center. The girl called out, “Mommy!” She ran to Vanessa. Vanessa ducked down, pulling the girl into her arms. _She was so tiny, and innocent, and gentle._ Vanessa could feel the weight of her daughter in her arms. Vanessa began crying into the large white bowl. Her tears were running down the slopes of the bowl, coalescing at the bottom.

_It was so hard,_ she thought. Memories of her early twenties came pouring back to Vanessa. Ryan Caulfield had not started out as a successful construction owner. He had worked hard, oftentimes to the detriment of his own family. Vanessa knew everything Ryan sacrificed had always been for his wife and his daughter. At the time though, they were poor. Life was a struggle. Vanessa recalled so many days she spent alone. _Except they weren't alone,_ she thought, _I always had my Maxine._ Vanessa thought about holding the little girl on her lap. They would color with crayons, for hours, both of them, quiet, just content to sit and color together. Vanessa would rock her back and forth, talking softly. _She was all I had,_ Vanessa thought, _We were always together. She was my little buddy. Now she's all grown up._ Vanessa couldn't stop herself from balling. She crossed from the island to the kitchen table. She sat and wept.

_We told each other everything,_ she thought, _always._

Max and Chloe appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. Vanessa had not heard them coming down the stairs. They both froze at the sight of a weeping Vanessa Caulfield.

Vanessa looked up. She saw the face of her daughter. Vanessa's face contorted in grief.

“We told each other everything,” Vanessa said, “always.”

There was knocking at the front door. Max turned, she handed a _Pacific Vintage_ bag to Chloe.

“Wait outside,” Max said. Max sat her messenger bad down in the kitchen doorway.

Chloe looked momentarily at Vanessa. She turned and exited out the front door.

Max turned back to her mother. She walked to the kitchen table and sat across from her.

Vanessa repeated the words.

“We told each other everything,” Vanessa said, “Always. Ever since you were a little girl.”

“You were my baby,” Vanessa said.

Tears started pouring down Max's face.

“You became my friend” Vanessa said. There was a long pause.

“Now your all grown up,” Vanessa said, “but you'll always be my daughter.”

Max stood from the table, shaking at her mother's words. Vanessa stood up. They wrapped their arms around eachother.

“You made me happy, you always made me happy,” Vanessa said, “My Maxine, you still do.”

Max buried her face into Vanessa's shoulder.

“The thought of you being happy. . . That's what makes me happy,” Vanessa said, “It always has.”

Max's arms were limp. She was sobbing into her mother's shoulder.

Vanessa stood up straight. She lifted Max's chin so that the girl could look her in the eyes. She ran her thumbs across both of her daughter's eyes. Max sobbed twice in quick succession.

“Does Chloe make you happy?” Vanessa asked.

Max sobbed again. “Yes,” Max said, “She does.”

“Then I'm happy too,” Vanessa cried.

Max pushed herself back into her mother's shoulder. Vanessa squeezed tight. She was holding her baby again. Vanessa sat Maxine down in a kitchen chair. Vanessa returned to her seat sitting across from her daughter. Both of their tears were starting to subside.

“I was afraid that I'd failed you,” Vanessa said.

“What?” Max said, “How?”

“There was something you couldn't tell me,” Vanessa said, “We told each other everything, but for some reason you felt like you couldn't tell me about this. It's my fault. I failed you.”

“No,” Max said, “It's not your fault. Don't say that.”

Max continued, “I couldn't tell you any of this, because, well . . . I didn't know. I didn't know any of this, about myself, about Chloe, I didn't know until last week.”

“Your just saying that Max,” Vanessa said.

“Mom,” Max said. She was desperate for her mother to believe her, “I swear it to you. I didn't know I was gay until last week, well, maybe I did, but I was so confused before. I'm not now. Not anymore.”

“I didn't fail you?” Vanessa asked.

Max's wet eyes began pouring again. She began sobbing again.

“You could never fail me,” Max said. She pushed through her tears, “You're my mom. I love you.”

Max brought herself around the table and squeezed the woman in her arms.

“Thank you,” Vanessa cried. She felt massive relief at her daughter's words, “That's all I needed to hear.”

“There's something else you need to hear,” Max said. She stood up, motioning for Vanessa to do the same.

Vanessa looked worried.

“Chloe proposed to me,” Max said, “We're going to get married.”

“Oh Max...” Vanessa said. Her mouth had dropped open, “ _That's so wonderful_.”

“Chloe proposed, It was Joyce's ring, from William,” Max said.

“Max, grab her,” Vanessa pointed to the door, “Get her.”

Max went to and opened the front door. Chloe, Kristen, and Fernando were standing on the front porch. Chloe was leaning her back against one of the pillars. Her arms were folded, wrapping tight around her torso. She might have been crying. She looked up as Max opened the door. Her eyes were apologetic, afraid of what was happening inside the house.

“Chloe, come,” Max said. She motioned for Chloe to step inside. Chloe could see that Max was crying and had been balling only moments ago.

Chloe nodded her head and walked in through the door. She had only taken a few steps inside before Vanessa met her in the foyer. Max shut the door.

“You proposed to my Maxine?” Vanessa asked.

Chloe looked over at Max. Max was standing there, quiet, crying. Max nodded. Chloe couldn't stop from starting to cry herself.

Chloe focused her eyes back on Vanessa.

“Yes,” Chloe said.

“Do you love her?” Vanessa asked.

“Yes,” Chloe said. Her eyes narrowed. The question was serious, “More than anything. More than life itself.”

Vanessa took a step forward. She reached out and took each of Chloe's hands into her own.

“You give her happiness,” Vanessa said, “I know that. I can see it.”

Chloe looked over at Max. Max nodded yes again.

“I need to know though,” Vanessa said, “Does she give you happiness?”

Chloe looked at Max. She felt a massive lump forming in her throat. She started sobbing rapidly over and over. She began shaking her head up and down. Vanessa pushed forward and hugged the tall girl tight. Eventually Chloe choked out the word, “Yes.”

“We're the same then,” Vanessa said, “I know that Joyce is happy, wherever she may be. All mothers find happiness in the happiness of their children.”

Chloe began sinking to the ground, completely overcome, pulling Vanessa down with her. Max walked up behind Chloe. She wrapped her arms around Chloe's midsection. She squeezed tight, preventing her from dropping further.

“I'll love you like my own daughter,” Vanessa said, “ Welcome to the family”

 

\--------------------------

 

“Jesus Christ Fernando,” Kristen said, “You drive like a pussy.”

“Could we not take the lord's name in vain please?” Fernando asked. He was being fake polite, but it was actually one of the topics he was very serious about.

“Sorry,” Kristen said, “I forgot about your hard-on for the lord.”

“I swear, I'll drive us right into oncoming traffic if you do this shit today,” Fernando said. He had a massive grin on his face.

“Suicides a sin,” Kristen said. Her face was smug, brash, “So no, I doubt that one.”

Fernando jerked the wheel towards the left side of the road and immediately jerked back. The sudden shift in momentum caught Kristen off guard. She let out a small yell.

“Don't,” Kristen said, “You're going to make me puke in your car. You know I won't clean it up. I'll just grind that shit into the carpet.” Her face was stone.

“I'll push your face in it and make you lick it up,” Fernando said.

“Jokes on you,” Kristen said, “That is my exact sexual fetish.”

Fernando gave in and laughed. He always gave in laughing. Kristen would never give in. She would also never relent.

They were driving in a black 2001 impala. The car belonged to Fernando. The interior was leather, cream colored. It was well taken care of for its age. The duo pulled up to the Caulfield Seattle home. It was seven thirty four in the morning.

“Max is such a rich bitch,” Kristen said, staring at the large gray-sided colonial, “We should just change the plan right now, run the jewels up in this ma'focka. You know what I'm sayin'?”

Fernando's smile was weak.

“Hey, whats the matter?” Kristen asked. She was serious, “You seem off today.”

“Don't worry about it,” Fernando said, he shook his head.

“You don't have to say it Fernando,” Kristen said, “I know what the problem is.”

“Oh yeah?” Fernando asked. He knew he was in for it.

“Yeah, of course I do, you're my best friend,” Kristen said. Her eyes became devilish, “You're just too conflicted about which of these two girls you want to fuck on this road trip. And I mean, I get it right? It's tough. On one hand you've got this blue haired, big blue-eyed, gorgeous, tall, sad girl. She's just survived a natural disaster, probably emotionally devastated, so a pretty easy mark amirite? We all know what she really needs is a large, unclipped, meat-stick to help her through her tough times. Who better than yourself Fernando? I couldn't agree with you more.”

Fernando was shaking his head, unable to stop himself from grinning, “You're so fucked up.”

“Wait,” Kristen said, “I'm not done yet. I have to do the other hand. We've got Max. Small, petite, and completely sweet. She is what some in the rap community might describe as, a spinner. You've spent all these years laying the ground work and now it's time to harvest. Max is back. Freshly freed from her jail-bait status. Ripe for the. . . _plucking_.”

“Oh my god,” Fernando couldn't even look at Kristen. He was turning beet red.

“Hey!” Kristen said, “Don't take the lord's name in vain. Your rules.”

“Are you done?” Fernando asked. He knew the answer, _she's never done._

“Of course not,” Kristen said. She looked disappointed in the question, “We haven't even reached the heart of the problem yet.”

“Please do,” He said, “I really want to know.”

“Well,” Kristen continued, “If it was just a matter of choosing between two incredible women this wouldn't be a big deal. Two fine girls like this? Shit. That's standard operating procedure for a Latino, chiseled, big dicked god like yourself. That's not why your only laughing at my jokes with like, 85% of the capacity that you should be. The real problem is the threesome. I know you. You've been thinking about it since yesterday. Max joked about it, surely, that must mean she is actually willing to go through with it somewhere in her heart of hearts right? The thought stayed with you all night, you even masturbated twelve times trying to rid yourself of the idea, but alas, here we are, in the car, contemplating our next move, trying to ignore how sore our dick is, when we should be laughing at Kristen's jokes, the greatest thing that ever happened to western civilization.”

“I'm telling you,” Kristen said, “I know you. You are the most Icarus motherfucker alive today. You are a habitual too close to the sun flier. I know you know this. You're worried. You're worried this threesome is going to burn your wings, but I say worry yourself not my friend. What's the worst that can happen? You plummet, thousands of feet, crashing into the ground, probably sending your ribcage through your chest cavity, killing you instantly, but you can't worry about that shit. Your gamer-tag is PussySlayer420XL for a reason. I believe in you. I believe you can do it. You're Fernando Torres.”

They were both silent for several moments, contemplating the tirade.

“I really like how it got motivational at the end there,” Fernando said.

“I need you to tell me,” Kristen said, “I am very serious now.”

“That I can see,” Fernando said.

“No more jokes,” Kristen demanded, “I need you to tell me on a scale from zero to ten: How accurate my description of your problem was.”

“No joke answers, “Kristen said, “A real, honest, assessment.”

Fernando let out a sigh. “I dunno,” he shrugged, “Like a two out of ten?”

“Oh My God!” Kristen yelled, “Two out of ten?! That is twenty percent! You're telling me that 20% of what I just said was accurate?”

“I take it back!” Fernando said. He looked panicked, “I want to change my answer!”

“No!” Kristen yelled, “You can't take it back! It's already before god's eyes. I'm telling everyone you're a scum-fuck, degenerate, borderline-pedophile, piece of shit, abuser. I can't believe this. Now we have to find a new fucking driver and everything.”

With that Kristen opened her car door and hopped out of the impala. Fernando grabbed his keys from the ignition and stepped out of the driver side door. The car doors closed.

The morning was cold. The news report said that by noon it was unseasonably warm. Fernando leaned forward, resting his forearms on the hood of his impala. The black paint was cold. He let the metal pull the heat from his forearms. He stared at Kristen. The woman was looking at the Caulfield home. Fernando's chest ached looking at her. _She's extra funny today,_ he thought, _That means she's afraid of something, hiding it._

Kristen was wearing a her trademark purple sweater. It always hung open, never buttoned up. Fernando knew it was because her chest was too big. Beneath that she was wearing a solid colored orange shirt. A pair of jeans and sneakers completed the outfit. Her jet black hair was in a ponytail. She turned to look at Fernando. Her green eyes popped from the prescription of her black glasses.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Kristen demanded, “Let's go.”

Fernando snickered. He walked around the Impala. Fernando had on a pair of khaki pants secured by a black belt. The belt had small, silver ringed holes running the length of it. He was wearing a skin tight black cotton shirt. The shirt was tucked into the khaki's. He had a grey hoodie on over the top of the shirt. He was also wearing sneakers.

The duo walked up to the door of the Caulfield home. Kristen put her arm out and rapped on the door. After a moment Chloe Price opened the door and walked out. She had two _Pacific Vintage_ bags in her hands. Chloe pulled the door closed and placed the bags on the ground.

Chloe was wearing a vintage black _Misfits_ T-shirt. She had on a new pair of skin tight jeans being held up by a black suspender belt. The straps dangled loose at her sides. She had on her black boots and navy blue beanie.

“Where's Max?” Kristen asked.

Chloe didn't answer. The girl's head was turned looking at the kitchen window. The blinds were closed, impossible to see through. Chloe looked like she might be ill.

“Hey,” Kristen said. She stepped forward and touched Chloe's shoulder, “Are you okay? Take a breath and tell us what happened.”

Chloe looked first at Kristen, then at Fernando.

“I'm sorry,” Chloe said, “I feel like I can't breathe.”

“You are panicking,” Kristen said, “Here.” Kristen guided Chloe over to one of the tall white pillars holding up the awning above the doorway. “Lean back,” Kristen said. She eased Chloe back onto the pillar.

“Do this,” Kristen instructed. She crossed both of her arms across her chest. She was hugging herself very tight. Her right hand was past her left hip. Her left hand was past her right hip. “It should hurt a little bit.” Kristen said.

Chloe tried to mimic the pose. Kristen stepped up and adjusted her arms for her.

“Now breathe in,” Kristen said, “Deep, from your stomach.”

Chloe nodded. She began breathing deep. The pose hurt, she felt her lungs and ribcage expanding with no where to go. Her back straightened, cracking certain portions of her spine. The panic subsided.

“More psychic powers?” Chloe asked.

“Just yoga,” Kristen said. She smiled.

“What is happening in there?” Fernando asked, confident that Chloe was calming.

“Vanessa,” Chloe said. Her words will stilted, she let them out between breaths, “Vanessa caught us. Me and Max. We were fooling around. In the shower.”

“Oh that's not big deal sweetie,” Kristen said, “Everyone get caught doing the dirty sometimes.”

“I'm scared,” Chloe said. She was starting to cry, “Vanessa is crying, she said something about telling the truth. What if I can't stay? Ryan will kick me out.”

“Whoa,” Fernando said, “That doesn't sound like Ryan to me. That guy is super chill.”

Kristen stepped forward and placed her hand on Chloe's back, “Listen. I've known Vanessa for awhile. She was the one that helped my boss, Leonard, purchase the store. If I know anything about Vanessa and Ryan Caulfield it's that they love their daughter. They'll do anything she asks. If Max wants you to stay, and if she puts up any kind of fuss about it, you will be staying.”

Chloe nodded. Kristen's words were helpful.

The door of the house opened. Kristen took a step back. Max was at the front door. Her eyes were bloodshot, track lines running down her face.

“Chloe, come,” Max said. She motioned for the girl to step inside.

Chloe stepped into the front door. It closed behind her.

Kristen took Chloe's spot on the pillar. There was another pillar a few feet away. Fernando stepped up to it and leaned back onto it. The duo were facing one another.

“We kind of stepped into something here,” Fernando said.

Kristen nodded. She was looking off into the distance.

“You remember Garrett's party?” Fernando asked.

Kristen nodded again. She was still looking off into the distance. This time she began smiling.

“That might have been the most awkward night of my life,” Kristen said.

“I've never seen a couple argue like that,” Fernando said, “That was way worse than something like this.”

“This isn't so bad,” Kristen shrugged, “Max is coming out. I'm actually pretty happy for her.”

Fernando looked sad, “I never even knew she was in. You think she would of told us.”

“Don't feel bad,” Kristen said, “I don't think Max even knew she was in.”

“No one confides in me,” Fernando said, “Not even you anymore.”

“Fernando don't,” Kristen said.

“Chloe was so upset just now,” Fernando said, “No one gets that upset about me, or for me.”

Kristen stepped across from her pillar to his. She placed her hand in the center of his chest.

“Listen to me,” Kristen said, “I do get upset about you, all the time.”

“You don't though,” Fernando said, “You deflect, making jokes, quoting movies.”

“I have to,” Kristen said, “If we're not making each other laugh, we're breaking each others hearts. We have to stop talking like this. You're going to make me break your heart again, right now. I hate doing it, it hurts.”

“One more time,” Fernando said, “Break it for the last time.”

“Not everyone's best friend can be their lover,” Kristen said, “You're sweet, and sexy , and funny. We tried. You know we tried, twice. There's not enough substance there, we both know it.”

Fernando nodded, “I know. It's just hard. I can't be alone anymore. I'm not talking about sex. I need something real. A connection. That's why I kept coming back to you. We have a connection. I guess it's not enough.”

Kristen put her arms around his torso.

“You'll find it,” Kristen said, “I'm sorry that I'm not it, but you'll find it. I know you will. You are a good person. You're so much a better a person than I am Fernando. You are going to find a nice, gentle, pure girl. Someone who deserves you.”

Fernando brought his arms up and pulled Kristen tight to his chest. They stood there for several moments. The cool morning breeze felt good pouring over them.

“Thank you,” Fernando said.

Kristen wiped a few errant tears from her face. She nodded.

“Listen,” Kristen said, “Just as a heads up, that threesome plan is probably not going to pan out. F.Y.I.”

Fernando laughed, “You don't think so?”

Kristen shook her head. She made her voice nasally and old, “These aren't the girls you're looking for.” She waved her hand playfully, acting like a Jedi.

Fernando shrugged, “They seem like they are pretty emotionally compromised in there. Since the threesome plan looks out of the question at this point we could go back to plan B.”

“So you only wan to run the jewels after the possibility of sex has crashed and burned?” Kristen asked. She smiled.

“Well yeah,” Fernando said, “Why do you think all that shit went missing from your apartment three months ago. . . think about it.”

Kristen laughed. It was relief laughter. She felt like a big weight had been pulled off her shoulders. She stepped back to her own pillar.

“Ok,” Kristen said, “Here's the real question. What the hell were they doing in the shower? This doesn't seem like your normal, got caught finger poppin', level of drama.”

“Ass to Ass,” Fernando said, “100%”

Kristen snorted hard, “You sound so sure. Like you've thought about this a lot.”

“It's just that I know Ryan so well,” Fernando said, “You were there actually. Remember that time we dropped Max off from the _Broken Bells_ concert. The traffic was really bad so we got back really late. Ryan pulled us aside and asked us not to keep her out past her curfew.”

“I do remember that,” Kristen nodded.

“Then he pulled us even further aside,” Fernando said.

“That is the part I get fuzzy on,” Kristen said. She snapped her fingers, “Remind me.”

“Well I guess it wasn't specifically Ass to Ass he was warning us about,” Fernando said, “It was just double sided sex toys in general...”

The front door of the house opened wide. Both Kristen and Fernando became silent. Max and Chloe stepped out onto the front porch.

“We're getting married,” Max declared.

Kristen looked at Fernando in shock. “That escalated quickly,” she said.

 


	13. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 9 - Part 3

Chloe Price, Kristen Giroux, and Fernando Torres were sitting in the car. It was parked in the driveway of the Caulfield Seattle home. Fernando was in the driver's seat. His window was rolled down. Kristen was in the coveted 'shotgun' position. Chloe was in back seat, on the passenger side. All three of them were watching Maxine Caulfield hug her mother goodbye.

Vanessa Caulfield let her daughter escape from her grip. She squeezed Max's arms, looking her in the eye.

“No more crying,” Vanessa said.

Max shook her head. “Yeah right,” Max said. Tears were already starting to form. She brought the sleeve of her black hoodie up to her eyes, “I guess I can try.”

“That's it then?” Vanessa asked, “You're all set and ready to go? Think about it.”

Max shut her eyes and thought about the question. Vanessa's words made their way into the open window of the black Impala. Max's companions considered the question. The bags were packed. The gas tank was full. Their hearts burned. All of the starting conditions for a for a meaningful road trip had been met.

“I can't think of anything else,” Max said.

“No one has to pee?” Kristen asked, “Now's the time!” The comment elicited smiles and 'no's from everyone.

“I guess you're off then,” Vanessa said, “ When should I expect you back?”

Max shrugged, “I wish I had a simple answer. Could be, two days, could be the rest of the week.”

“You're an adult now. Take as much time as you need.” Vanessa said. The words were meant for herself as much as they were meant for Max. “But, I wouldn't mind it if you decided to call and check in with your old mom every once in a while.”

“I promise,” Max said. With that she wrapped her arms around her mother one last time.

“I love you Maxine,” Vanessa said.

“I love you too,” Max said. The hug ended. Vanessa nodded.

Max turned and entered the rear driver side door of the car, behind Fernando. She rolled the window down.

Vanessa stepped up to the driver side door. She leaned down, putting her head into the frame of the window. The passengers paid perfect attention.

“Alright kids,” Vanessa said, “Drive safe. Go easy on the sex, drugs, and rock n' roll.”

“That doesn't sound like us at all,” Kristen said.

Vanessa smiled. She became serious, looking at Fernando.

“I mean it, no smoking and driving,” Vanessa said.

Fernando nodded, “Even I know better than that.”

“You have some though?” Vanessa asked, her voice becoming a whisper. She turned her head looking across the street for a moment.

“For you, always,” Fernando said. His white teeth flashed in a large grin, “You want the usual?”

Vanessa produced a twenty dollar bill from the back pocket of her jeans. She dropped it through the window, into Fernando's lap.

“What the hell am I witnessing right now?” Max demanded from the back seat. She could not believe her eyes.

Vanessa turned to her daughter in the back seat. She spoke,“Like I said, you're an adult now. You can handle it.” Vanessa snickered at Max's dubious stare.

Fernando started laughing. He opened the arm rest and produced two joints from a small baggie. He handed them to Vanessa. The older woman took them and tucked them into her bra.

“We smelled you two smoking last night,” Vanessa told her daughter, “Don't give me any lip.”

Chloe looked embarrassed. Max's jaw dropped open.

“You do you Mrs. Caulfield,” Kristen said.

Vanessa rustled the top of Fernando's head, smiling at him, mussing the handsome boy's hair.

“I'm calling in sick today,” Vanessa told them, “I've got a date with my Netflix queue. I love you kids. Call me.”

Vanessa disappeared from the car window. They all watched as she disappeared back into the front door.

Chloe broke the silence first, “Max, your mom is way cooler than you are.”

 

**\-----------------------------**

 

“Starbucks or Tim Horton's?” Fernando asked, polling his passengers. They had been on the road for only ten minutes.

“I haven't had Starbucks in years,” Chloe said, “That would be really cool.”

Kristen sighed, “I'm Canadian, so I should be super biased in this matter, but I must admit, Starbucks is a superior establishment. There. I said it. I've let my nation down.”

“Don't care,” Max said. The girl was lying in the back seat. Her head was on a pillow, which was sitting in Chloe's lap. Max's feet were raised, pressed against the rear driver side window. The coolness of the morning air was transferring from the glass to the bottom of her socked feet. She moved her feet periodically, finding a freshly cool portion of the smooth glass to experience.

“Starbucks it is,” Fernando said. He hid his disappointment.

“I'm going to have bed head,” Max said. She could feel part of her head being matted by the pillow.

“You always kind of do,” Chloe said, “But you pull it off. That messy on purpose look. It's really cute.” Chloe ran her thumb behind Max's ear. Max leaned into the contact. She felt like a cat, asking to be rubbed by her owner, the care-taker of her well-being.

Chloe pinched Max's ears. A soft pinch, gently rolling Max's ear-lobes in her fingertips.

“Feels good,” Max said, “You'll put me to sleep like that.”

“Well, aren't you two just young and in love?” Kristen said, “I'm not sure if it's endearing or nauseating.”

Max let out a deep yawn. “Kristen please don't tease me this morning,” Max pleaded, “I can't handle you at 100% right now.”

“What's wrong with being in love?” Chloe asked. She laid her arm around Max's torso.

“Nothing's wrong,” Kristen said, “I'm just . . . I dunno.”

Kristen snuck a glance towards the driver. She turned her head to the back seat, “I guess you two are just, making me nostalgic. You remind me of when I was less. . . jaded.”

The car bounced up and down as Fernando turned into a Starbucks parking lot. He pulled into the drive-thru line behind several vehicles. The morning coffee rush was in full swing.

“How old are you Kristen?” Chloe asked.

“I turn twenty five in November,” Kristen answered.

“Really?” Chloe asked, surprised, “You look a lot younger.”

Kristen found herself smiling at the praise, “Aww, you're sweet, but no, I've definitely been around the block a few times.”

“More than a few,” Fernando chimed in.

Max snorted.

Kristen turned to Fernando with a devilish grin.“I'd be quiet if I were you,” she said, “This conversation could go _very_ south for you, _very_ quickly.”

“Don't,” Fernando said. He had a massive smile on his face, “I'll shut up.”

Kristen turned back to Max and Chloe. She reached into the back seat and touched Max's arm. She said, “He's right, though. I've been through a lot of relationships. I've been where you're at so many times. It's exciting. I want it to last, for both of you. You seem really. . . _connected_ , it gives me hope.”

“You're the best,” Max said. She picked herself up out of Chloe's lap, leaned forward and embraced Kristen in an awkward side hug. Max fell back into Chloe's lap.

“I talk like I know shit,” Kristen said, “I dunno though, I never promised to marry anyone.” Kristen shook her head, “Congratulations, to both of you.”

“I know we're having a moment,” Fernando interrupted, “But I need orders.” They were the next car in the drive-thru.

“Twenty ounce chai latte,” Kristen said, “Whole milk.”

Max thought for a moment, _Do I want to sleep?_ She decided that she didn't. “Twenty ounce dark roast, black,” Max said. She sat up from Chloe's lap. She reached for her messenger bag.

“Do they have donuts here?” Chloe asked, “Like, by the dozen?”

“Not really,” Max said, “They're 'artisan', aka overpriced.”

Chloe looked disappointed. Her eyes squinted out the window, towards the menu.

“I'll have a large mocha with whip cream,” Chloe decided, “and a chocolate chunk muffin. . . and a chocolate croissant.” Chloe hesitated, “OH, and an apple fritter, wait, no, just the muffin and the croissant.” Chloe frowned. _It all looks good,_ she thought.

“You sure that's it?” Fernando asked. He had turned, seeing the indecision on her face.

“Max will you eat some of this?” Chloe asked.

“Probably,” Max said. She had found a hairbrush in her messenger bag, she began brushing her hair.

“I want the apple fritter too,” Chloe said to Fernando. She began digging in her pocket. She pulled out a twenty dollar bill and tried to hand it to the driver.

The boy made a motion in the air as if trying to swat the money away. His brow furrowed, “Don't worry about it.”

Chloe felt embarrassed. She wanted to protest but Fernando turned to speak to the intercom before she was able to argue. She smiled and stuffed the loose bill back into her pocket.

Chloe, Kristen, and Max all listened as Fernando repeated their orders. Each one of them was ready to correct him at the first sign of error. The orders were recited accurately. He added an extra large ice coffee with two shots of espresso for himself.

The car pulled away from the little digital screen.

Fernando turned to the backseat. He spoke, “I'm glad you found something Max, something meaningful. I know that's why you left Seattle in the first place, to try and find it. I happy for the both of you, congratulations.”

“Both of you helped,” Max said, “I would have never gone to back to Arcadia Bay without both of you encouraging me.” _Chloe would be dead if it weren't for the two of you,_ Max thought. The thought filled her heart with love. “You helped guide me back to Chloe, right when we needed each other the most,” Max said, “I could never thank you enough.”

Fernando started to speak, _“_ You don't have to tha...” He was interrupted.

“I'll take all the credit,” Kristen declared, “I am the progenitor of your love, and as such, I demand to be your maid of honor as reward. I will also accept a large lump sum of cash as appropriate thanks.”

All of them laughed.

The car pulled to the window. Fernando paid with a fifty dollar bill from his wallet. He was promptly handed his change followed by four drinks and a bag of food. He waited for Chloe to check the bag before pulling away from the window. Chloe looked into the bag. A muffin, A croissant, and an apple fritter. She gave Fernando a nod, “We're good.” Fernando pulled forward.

The center of the backseat folded down into cup holders. Max pulled it down setting her coffee into the plastic depression. Chloe did the same with her mocha.

“I'm so excited,” Chloe said, “This croissant smells better than sex.”

For a brief moment Max wondered if the comment held a deeper meaning about the state of her personal hygiene. _Hopefully not,_ she thought.

Max peeled the tab of her coffee open. It would need to sit for several minutes before it was cool enough to sip. “Fernando,” Max said, “We need to stop at a seven eleven. We need new phones, just some cheap ones.”

Fernando nodded in the front seat, “You're wish is my command. It'll be easier to hit one outside the city, can it wait till we beat rush hour traffic?”

“That's cool,” Chloe said. She bit into the chocolate croissant. The warm chocolate oozed into her mouth. _Fucking, please,_ she thought.

“Taste this,” Chloe said. Her words were very serious. She thrust the food in Max's direction.

Max rolled her eyes. She had not really planned on eating much. She took the object and bit into it. The chocolate gushed over her tongue. The warm sensation was beyond pleasant. “mmph,” Max said. She continued to chew, handing the last bit of croissant back to her partner. “Too good.”

The vehicle was quiet, bar the occasional sipping noise. The food had silenced them all. They were on the road once again. After a while the conversation returned. It consisted primarily of reminiscing. Kristen, Fernando, and Max took turns citing the past, steeping themselves in nostalgia. Chloe was quiet, happy to listen to and laugh at their stories, vicariously experiencing their friendship.

It had been close to forty minutes. Fernando spoke, “There's a seven eleven in half a mile. You want to stop?”

“Yeah,” Max said, “We really need to. We need to make a phone call.”

After half a mile, Fernando pulled the car into the right lane. He pulled off of the highway. The exit led to a long road. In the modern age, roads die or thrive based on the whims of apathetic GPS systems and navigation applications. This stretch of highway had perished long ago. Only the useful skeleton of a location remained: A convenience store, a gas station, and an auto-repair shop. Maybe there had been more here at one point in time. Now the three buildings were surrounded by open fields. The tall green grass was rustling in the cool, early autumn air. Max knew it wouldn't take long for nature to reclaim the last few buildings if push came to shove.

Fernando pulled into the seven eleven parking lot. The lines on the cement were faded, a ghost of what they once were. All four of the passengers exited the vehicle. They had only been on the road for about an hour but each of them stretched their limbs as if they had traveled a thousand miles.

“There's a pond,” Fernando said, pointing.

There was a path running from the edge of the parking lot down to a dark blue pond. There were several picnic tables down by the water's edge.

“Pretty,” Max said. She snapped both of her wrist joints, stretching her arms.

“Fernando,” Chloe said, “Could you look at my cut?”

“Yeah, sure,” He said, “I brought the rest of the medical kit.”

“That's a good idea,” Kristen said, “Let's grab those phones Max.” She motioned for Max to follow her.

Max could see that Kristen needed to speak with her. Max nodded and followed Kristen into the brick-fronted, green, white, and red logoed building.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Chloe watched as Max and Kristen stepped into the convenience store.

She turned to look at Fernando. He closed the trunk of the car. He had a black duffel bag over his shoulder. He walked to Chloe, around the vehicle, leaning backward against the passenger side door.

“So, what's up?” he asked.

Chloe brought her hand up behind her neck. “One of my stitches, it came apart last night,” Chloe said, “Max fixed it. It doesn't hurt, but I think, maybe the bandage got a bit wet in the shower.”

“I'll take a look,” he said, “A new bandage should be easy.”

Fernando looked around. He spotted the picnic tables by the pond.

“We could sit at that table?” He suggested, pointing.

“Sure,” she said.

They made their way across the parking lot to a small gravel path leading to the pond. They talked as they went.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, “For what you said earlier, in the car.”

“Congratulations?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, “You called us genuine, me and Max, it means a lot.”

“Kristen and myself would have been friends with anyone,” he said, “Any friend of Max's is a friend of mine, that kind of thing. After this morning, it was really obvious that you're much more important to Max than just a friend. I'm glad we met.”

“Hell yeah, me too,” she said, “You and Kristen make me feel welcome. I wasn't sure how I would fit in. In Seattle, or I guess, Max's life in general.”

They reached the picnic table. Fernando sat on the side of the bench closest to the water. He straddled it, putting a leg on either side. He patted a spot on the bench in front himself, indicating that Chloe should sit down. Chloe swung her leg over the bench and sat down in front of him.

Fernando unzipped the black duffel bag. He dug through it finding the small medical kit.

“We'll have to introduce you to some more people,” Fernando said, “Garret, Leonard, Denise, Sarah, Big Pete. Our group of friends is pretty wide. I bet you'd get along with most of them. We take turns throwing parties. Kristen is next. You and Max should come.”

“I'd love to come,” Chloe said, “I love parties.”

“Scoot back,” Fernando said.

Chloe felt Fernando place his hands on her hips. He pulled her back a few inches on the bench. She was now partially sitting between his legs.

“I'm going to lift your shirt now,” Fernando said.

“oooh, exciting,” Chloe teased.

Fernando hooked his thumbs at the bottom of Chloe's shirt and pulled it up to her shoulders, where it came to a rest. He took a long look across the skin of her back and shoulders.

“The sexual tension is already a bit much,” he said, “flirting with me isn't helping.”

Chloe laughed and then shivered, “Hurry, the breeze is cool.”

Fernando worked his fingertips beneath the large bandage in the center of Chloe's back. He started pulling it off a bit at a time, rubbing the skin beneath the tape with his fingertips. Chloe closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath; His touch was nice.

“You're such a problem,” Chloe sighed. The words were mostly rhetorical.

“What's wrong?” Fernando asked.

Chloe couldn't tell if he was just acting innocent or if he was totally oblivious.

“Nothing,” Chloe whined, “ It's just that, you're taking my bandage off, in like, the sexiest way possible.”

Fernando ripped the rest of the bandage off in one long and fast motion.

Chloe arched her back hard from the sudden shock and pain.

“Ouuuuu!” Chloe said, “Fucking. . . dipshit ass bitch.”

Fernando laughed at her sudden rage. Chloe started to laugh, embarrassed and amused by her own anger.

“Not funny,” Chloe said, trying not to laugh.

“These stitches look fine,” Fernando said, “Max did well.” Her ran his thumb along the cut, observing how the flesh was mending together, “You're going to have a scar.”

“That's fine,” Chloe said, “I could use a few physical ones to match my emotional ones.”

“Yeah,” he said.

Fernando fashioned a new bandage from the material found in the medical kit. He soaked a cotton swab in alcohol. He ran it along the length of Chloe's cut. She flinched a bit, sucking the air in sharp, a quick gasp. He placed his left hand on her side to stop her from shaking. His hand found it's way to the scar beneath her left armpit.

“Hurt's less than yesterday,” Chloe said, “It's still a fucker.”

He pressed the medical tape down firm across her skin, sealing the bandage against the cut.

“You're good,” Fernando said. He pulled Chloe's shirt back down across the skin of her back.

Chloe looked over her shoulder. She flashed him a bright smile.

Fernando smiled. His eyes narrowed slightly.

_He looks so sad,_ she thought.

“Scooch,” Fernando said. He put his hand against Chloe's lower back and pushed, ushering the girl to move away from him, down the bench.

Chloe moved down the bench. She stood up. She stepped up onto the bench and sat down on top of the picnic table. She let her feet sit on the center of the bench. “Thanks dude,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, “No problem. You don't have to keep thanking me for being a decent person, it's weird.” He began piecing the med kit back together.

“I do though,” Chloe said, “Decent people are hard to find these days.”

Fernando laughed. It was closer to a shutter. “Fuck it,” he said, “Kristen can drive, you want to smoke with me?”

“Yes,” she said, “I do.”

Fernando produced a joint from front pocket of his shirt. He handed it to Chloe, “Start that,” he said.

Chloe nodded. She pulled a lighter from her pocket and started the joint. When Fernando had zipped the duffel bag closed she passed the weed to him. He took it and stood up. He sat back down on the bench, facing the small pond. His elbows were tucked behind himself, resting on the picnic table.

The two of them stared out over the pond for several minutes, passing the weed back and forth.

Chloe spoke, “You know, this pond is pretty shit.”

The top layer of the pond was covered in green muck. The rim of the small body of water was covered in tall, unkempt grass. The water looked still, dead.

“It was much prettier from the road,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, “I guess the idea of a pond is always nicer than actually going to a pond.”

“The fish are dead,” Fernando said. Several dead fish could be seen floating in the center of it.

“I'm pretty sure that's an oil drum,” Chloe said, she pointed to a large blue plastic barrel stuck in the embankment on the far side.

Fernando started laughing, “I'm going to have nightmares about being baptized here.”

Chloe laughed.

They continued to pass the joint back and forth.

“You have a scar beneath your left arm, across your ribs,” he said, “What happened?”

“A friend,” she said, “He was showing me how to defend myself, with a knife.”

“An accident then?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, “It was stupid, we were just playing around.”

“Did you need to know? How to use a knife?” he asked.

“I wanted to know,” she said, “Arcadia Bay was getting bad before the storm. Unemployed fisherman, bikers, and truckers. The town was unusually dangerous for women.”

“That's terrible,” he said.

“I wasn't worried about myself,” she said, “I had a friend named Rachel. I wanted to protect her. The person that gave me this scar, I think, he wanted me to protect her too. I feel like, I failed him.”

“Something happened to her?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, “Something dark.”

Fernando stood. He stepped up on the bench and sat on the picnic table, hip to hip with Chloe.

“I brought something,” he said, “Kristen was quiet last night. It was worrying.”

He reached into his left pocket. He pulled two switch-blade knives from his pocket. He held them up for Chloe to see.

“People are hard to trust,” he said, “After they've lost everything, it becomes worse.”

Chloe reached out and took one. The handle was white. Ornate black symbols covered the surface of the handle. The largest symbol was an image of the sun, casting its rays of light. Chloe pressed the mechanism to make the blade pop. It shined dangerously in the mid-morning sunlight.

“That blade was my uncle's,” he said, “This one was my father's.”

Chloe examined the knife in Fernando's hand. The handle was black with white symbols. The centerpiece was a bright white moon.

“Pretty,” Chloe said.

“They grew up together in Los Angeles,” he said, “It was a more dangerous time. They fought very hard to escape. They weren't proud of everything they did there. In the end though, they were glad they did the things they did.”

“Why?” Chloe asked.

“Because they did those things for the people they loved,” he said, “my mother, my aunt, my grandmother, myself. They tried to protect us and make our lives better.”

“My uncle gave these to me after my father's funeral,” Fernando said, “He told me it was now my job to protect the ones I loved.”

“Chloe, I want you to hold on to that,” he said. He reached over and closed Chloe's fist around the handle of the blade, “If this trip is going to be dangerous, I want you to protect the ones you love.”

Tears had started falling down Chloe's cheeks. Her eyes went from the blade to Fernando.

She nodded her head up and down. “I'll fight with you,” she said.

_I'll never lose Max,_ she thought, _Not like I lost Rachel._ She gripped the blade tight in her fist. She closed it, careful not to cut herself.

“Good,” he said. He took one last drag from the joint. It was finished. He snuffed the end of it out on the edge of the picnic table.

Both of them were quiet, staring out at the failing pond.

“Who are the ones you love?” she asked, “The ones you protect?”

“My sisters first, then my mother,” he said, “Kristen. Max, other friends, I guess now, you too.”

“You and Kristen, is that a thing?” she asked.

“It _was_ a thing,” he said, “A few times.”

“Not anymore?” she asked.

“Nah,” he said. Fernando shook his head, “No more.”

“There's no one?” she asked.

“There's always someone,” he said, “They all get bored and send me away in the end. The sad part is that I would of stayed with any of them.”

“Even Kristen?,” Chloe asked. The painful look on Fernando's face made her regret asking the question.

“Kristen's different,” he said, “She would never send me away, but, she won't love me either.”

Fernando continued, “I guess, we always knew it wasn't love. We were just using each other to get through hard times. She's my best friend, but that's all we'll ever be.”

Chloe looked up at the sky. The Autumn sky is dark blue, much closer to the blackness of space than the Spring sky. Chloe closed her eyes. She tried to imagine herself in Fernando's position. She imagined Max handing back Joyce's ring. “ _Maybe we're better off as best friends,”_ said the imagined Max, “ _Thank you for helping me through these hard times.”_ It was an unbearably painful thought.

“I'm not sure why I'm spilling my guts all over the place,” Fernando said.

Chloe sighed, “The less you know a person the more you want to tell them everything. You have so much you want to say, it just comes flooding out, you know they can't really hurt you or judge you.”

“You're right,” he said, “We haven't even known each-other for a whole day. We're still basically strangers.”

“Not anymore,” Chloe said. She leaned in and wrapped her arm around Fernando's. She laid her head down on his shoulder, “We're friends now.”

“Max is going to be mad if she sees you like that,” Fernando said. He chuckled.

“I don't mind. It's good to make her a little jealous sometimes,” Chloe said.

“I feel used,” Fernando said.

They both laughed.

“We're going to Blackwell Academy. There are a ton of really cute girls there,” Chloe said, “Who knows, I found my soul-mate at Blackwell, maybe you'll get lucky too.”

Fernando laughed, “I would like that.”

 

 

 

\---------------------------

 

Max followed Kristen into the convenience store.

The clerk was stocking cigarettes. Middle-aged, blonde, she was unloading cartons from boxes, placing them on the shelves behind the counter.

“Hi!,” The blonde woman called from behind the counter, “How you doing today?”

Kristen smiled, “I'm doing pretty good,” she said, “How're you?”

“Ahh,” the woman said, “The same old.”

“Ma'am?,” Max said, “Do you have phones for sale? The kind you use with a phone card?”

“We sure do,” the woman said, “The last aisle, before the coolers.”

“Thank you,” Max said. She motioned for Kristen to lead the way.

They reached the seclusion of the last aisle. Kristen turned to Max.

“Talk to me for a minute,” Kristen said.

“I know, I'm sorry,” Max said, “I was waiting for a chance to speak without Fernando.”

“I'm aware,” Kristen said, “Lay it on me.”

“Kristen,” Max said, “Arcadia Bay is going to be dangerous.”

“How so?” Kristen asked.

“Let me explain,” Max said. She thought about her words for a moment, “We talked to Chloe's stepfather this morning. There could be someone looking for us, someone dangerous.”

Kristen whispered, “Max . . . that's scary, what does that even mean?”

Max found herself lowering her voice to a whisper, “Someone is trying to silence us ,trying to silence everyone who knew about what Mark Jefferson was doing.”

“Your professor right?” Kristen asked, maintaining her whisper volume, “Kidnapping women?”

She felt a shiver run down her spine. She looked around the convenience store, half-expecting to see Jefferson lurking by the _Slurpee_ machine.

Max nodded. “Yes,”she whispered, “It might be bigger than that. Corrupt police officers might be involved. There is a powerful family that basically runs the town. We don't really know what any of it means or how it connects together yet.”

Kristen bit her lower lip. She did it often when she was contemplating things.

“If you want to turn back or whatever, we can,” Max said, “ I don't really want to put you or Fernando in danger.”

“I can't go back,” Kristen said, “I need to know. I couldn't sleep last night. I can't get that vision out of my head. I know that ignoring it has to be far more dangerous than whatever is waiting for us in Arcadia Bay.”

“Good,” Max said, “We're on the same page.”

“I wouldn't say that exactly,” Kristen said.

“What do you mean?” Max asked.

“I'm worried about you Max,” Kristen said.

“Worried about me?” Max asked.

“Yes Max,” Kristen whispered, “I'm worried about you. Maybe we saw a vision yesterday. Maybe though, you just slipped some acid into my coffee. Maybe you're just dragging me along into some kind of natural disaster induced psychosis. Either way, I'm coming with you, for your sake.”

“That's not fair,” Max said. She felt betrayed.

“It might not be fair,” Kristen said, “but it's how I feel. You can't blame me, can you?”

“No, I can't blame you for not believing me,” Max said, “I might be able to blame you for being a shitty friend though.”

The words were harsh. Kristen felt immediate guilt.

“I'm just trying to stay objective,” Kristen said, “for everyone's benefit.”

“I know. . .” Max said, “You always do. I guess, that's why you're the one I told. If I can make you believe it, everyone else will be easy.”

“That's not the only thing I'm worried about” Kristen said.

Max sighed, “What?”

“Talk to me about Chloe,” Kristen said.

Max was defensive. “What about Chloe?” she asked.

“Well,” Kristen said. She held up her hands, placating the anger in Max's eyes, “You just got engaged, tell me about it, all the details.”

“ _Well_ ,” Max said, “We spent the last two days getting everything off of our chests. Everything Kristen. About our past, about our future. I'll spend the rest of my life with her. We both felt the same way last night. The proposal just cemented everything in place. We were just talking and, she kind of just surprised me with the ring.”

“You're going to hate me,” Kristen said.

Max sighed. “I won't,” Max said, “I promise I won't be angry with you if you're honest.”

“I'm scared,” Kristen said, “I'm scared that you are jumping into this kind of fast.”

Max frowned.

“Hear me out,” Kristen said, “You just escaped Arcadia Bay. You told me it was hard, that you saw devastation, disaster. Chloe lost her mother. You told me that you found her lover's body. Both of you have been through serious trauma Max. I need you to answer some questions for me. I need to know, as your friend, that you considered these things, because I don't want you to get hurt Max, and what I said in the car is true, I do see that you two have a connection, it's obvious. It makes the situation even scarier.”

Max felt ill. She pushed out a long, relieving burst of air. “Okay,” She said, “I'll answer your questions the best I can. Honest as possible.”

“ _Okay,_ ” Kristen said, “I need you to assure me that both of you were thinking clearly when she proposed to you. You understand? And if so, do you think that both of you are equipped to make that kind of decision right now, with the disaster, the vision, and everything else that has happened?”

“I know what you're saying,” Max said, “I do believe we were thinking clearly. Like I said, we talked about everything by Sunday night.” Max thought for a moment, “We talked about what Rachel meant to Chloe, about Joyce, about when I left and what that did to Chloe. We talked about what we meant to one another, about our feelings when we were young, about our present feelings. Kristen I promise you this wasn't some impulse, from either of us. You can't forget that I've know Chloe since I was ten years old. I'm actually the person that knows her the best in the entire world. It's a thought that breaks my heart, but it's the truth. I know Chloe had a clear mind when she asked me to marry her. I could see it in her eyes, in her her smile. I could feel it in her heart.”

“That's . . . a good answer Max,” Kristen said, “I couldn't really ask for a stronger answer.”

Max nodded. “Ask me something else,” she said.

“Your sexuality Max,” Kristen said, “Are you comfortable with it? You lost your virginity on Saturday night and now you're engaged Monday morning? You might know Chloe better than anyone, but do you really know yourself yet?”

Max fell silent. _I do know Chloe better than I know myself,_ she thought, _She's right._

Kristen waited. She could see her question had given Max pause.

“I don't know how to answer that,” Max said, “Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm even a real person anymore. I feel like I discovered so much about what's inside of me last week. I don't know. . .”

Kristen looked discomforted. She had not intended the question to cause an existential crisis.

“Let's talk it through,” Kristen said.

Max didn't say anything. She was listening.

“Tell me,” Kristen said, “Does Chloe turn you on?”

Max felt her cheeks heating up at the question.

“I'm not talking about knowing if a woman is attractive or not,” Kristen said, “I'm talking about real arousal, the kind that ruins underwear. You can love Chloe as much as you want, but I think she might be very unsatisfied if the sex dries up after a few weeks, literally _and_ figuratively.”

Max stomped her foot, embarrassed at what she was about to say. “Yes, fine,” Max said, “She makes me wet. There. I said it. For the last hour, while we were in the car, all I really wanted was for her to rip my pants down and finger-fuck me, right there, in the back-seat. All-right? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yeah, actually,” Kristen said. She had a dirty smile on her face, “That _is_ kind of what I wanted to hear. Maybe a little less graphic.”

Max started laughing, her face was still hot and red. “Maybe I got a little carried away,” she said.

“No you didn't,” Kristen said, “What's the point of having an old, dirty friend like me if you're not going to spill the dirt with her somteimes?”

Max nodded, “You're right,” she said. She was still snickering, a bit nervous. “Chloe does this thing, I don't know if it's on purpose or not,” Max said, “I feel like, she's constantly touching me. Little touches, on my elbows, my shoulders, my hips, brushing the back of my hands. It feels like, sex could happen at any moment. Sometimes, it makes me feel ill, like it's too much chemistry, but also, I never want it to end.”

“Ohh yeah,” Kristen said, “I know what that's like. You've got the fever. The only way to cure it is to give in, try to fuck the feeling away.”

Max felt her heart beat increase its pace. The thought was exciting.

“If you're lucky,” Kristen said, “That feeling never goes away.”

“I don't want it to.” Max said.

“Is it good when she goes down on you?” Kristen asked.

Max became silent at the question.

For a few seconds Kristen wondered if she had crossed a line.

Max pushed through the overwhelming embarrassment, “I haven't uh . . . we haven't done that yet.”

“Oh boy, I'm excited,” Kristen said, “You know that feeling, when you've seen a movie but your friend hasn't yet, and you want them to see it really badly so that you two can talk about it?”

“Yeah,” Max said. Kristen's enthusiasm was infectious.

“I'm getting that feeling right now,” Kristen said, “except it's better than any movie, ever. Good ole' cunnilingus, it's like _The Shawshank Redemption_ times a million.”

Max snorted, “I can't wait.”

“You're going to have to give it back though,” Kristen said, “You prepared for that?”

“Absolutely not,” Max said, “It's fucking terrifying.”

“If it was sucking a dick, I could probably teach you half a dozen dirty tricks,” Kristen said, “Eatin' box though? Sorry kitten, I got nothing for ya.”

Max snickered.

“You could ask Fernando,” Kristen shrugged, “He's really good at it actually.”

“Oh god,” Max said, “No way, that's fucked up Kristen, way too much information.”

“Could you imagine that conversation,” Kristen said, “He would have this big, awkward erection.”

Max snorted, “It would be so uncomfortable.”

“The erection or you?” she asked.

Kristen continued to joke. Max thought about when they were younger, how Kristen had always tried to censor herself when Max was around. It was different now. Kristen was being candid, honest about sex, not worried that she was saying things Max shouldn't hear. Max felt like an adult. She felt more like an adult now than she did after losing her virginity. She would always be able to take part in the conversation now. Max laughed, partially at Kristen's next joke, partially in the wake of her epiphany.

“It feels good,” Max said, “To talk about this stuff. It makes everything more real.”

“Hey,” Kristen said, “Stop thanking me for being your friend, it feels weird every time.”

“Sorry,” Max said.

“Apologizing isn't good either,” Kristen said.

Max shook her head.

“I should probably pick out some phones,” Max said.

“Yeah,” Kristen nodded, “I'll grab some drinks and snacks.”

Max looked over the shelf filled with phones. It didn't take long for her to decide on the cheapest option. She grabbed two of the phones along with two $25 dollar prepaid cards. She met Kristen at the counter. Kristen had an assortment of goods running the gauntlet from sweet to salty.

The woman behind the counter rang Kristen up, depositing the goods into a couple of bags.

“It took you a while to decide on a phone,” the woman said.

“Yeah,” Max said, “We were just discussing some things.”

“She's getting married,” Kristen said.

Max beamed.

“Oh that's great,” The woman said, “Congratulations. You don't mind if I see the ring do you?”

Max smiled and shook her head, “Not at all.” She leaned forward and pulled her necklace from her shirt so that the woman could see it.

“Wow, that's really really pretty,” The woman said, “It's really different, a necklace like that. I like it.”

“Thanks,” Max said. She felt proud, “It's a family heirloom, I'm going to get it re-sized for my finger eventually, but I wanted to show it off, so my partner made necklaces for the both of us until then.”

“He sounds like a handy fella,” The woman said.

“Well. . . um, my partner's actually a woman,” Max said.

The woman's cordial, conversational demeanor drained away as she contemplated Max's words. Her eyes narrowed a bit. The change was jarring. Max felt her smile falling away.

“Just the two phones?” the woman asked. Her tone was curt, direct.

The silence of the store was suddenly very heavy.

“Uh. . . no,” Max said, “Could I get a . . . two pack of taquitos?”

“Yeah.” the woman said. She rang up the two phones and swiped the two prepaid phone cards, she placed them inside a plastic bag. She kept her eyes glued to Max the entire time. Max looked down at the counter, unable to take the glare of the woman any longer.

The clerk stepped over to the small glass case of heated food. She put on a pair of gloves and retrieved two taquitos from the case with a pair of metal tongs, placing them in a little paper bag. She returned to the counter and handed Max the bag without a word.

“Your total is $96.71,” she said.

Max opened her messenger bag and pulled a single hundred dollar bill from the 'handicap fund'. She handed it to the woman.

The woman continued to eye Max. She held the hundred dollar bill up to the light. After she was satisfied, she put the bill beneath the open drawer of the cash register and handed Max her change.

Max grabbed the plastic bag off the counter.

“Have a nice day. . .” Max said.

“Yep.” the clerk said.

Max could feel the clerk's disgust carried by the word. _Why?_ She thought, _I don't understand._

Max and Kristen carried their bags out of the store. The door closed behind them.

Max walked to her car door. She placed the phones and the taquitos down on her seat, through the open window of the Impala.

Kristen did the same with her own bags. She walked around the car and wrapped her arms around Max.

“I feel terrible,” Max said, “That was awful.”

“Fuck her,” Kristen said, “An hour away from any city and you get this hick shit.”

“I'm okay,” Max said, “I'm tougher than that at this point, really, let's just go.”

“Okay,” Kristen said. She looked around the parking lot, “Maybe if our friends we're fucking here we could.”

Max looked as well, she couldn't see either Fernando or Chloe.

“Oh Max,” Kristen said, “Look at that adorable straight couple cuddling by the pond over there.”

Max looked toward the pond. Chloe and Fernando were sitting on the top of a picnic table, shoulder to shoulder. Chloe's head was resting on Fernando's shoulder.

“CHLOE PRICE!” Max yelled.

 


	14. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 9 - Part 4 (of 4)

Max watched Chloe turn at the calling of her name. Chloe stood from the picnic table. She waved to Max. Fernando rose, hopping down from the picnic table, he slung the black gym bag over his shoulder. Max and Kristen leaned back against the passenger side of the Impala. They watched as their friends crossed the open field.

Chloe was laughing about something. She pushed Fernando's shoulder, making him step off the small gravel pathway. Fernando began laughing, he stepped back onto the trail.

Kristen watched as Max's eyes narrowed at the scene. She looked to Fernando. She hadn't seen him smile like that in a long time. A sliver of envy slithered across Kristen's skin. It was an unexpected and unwanted emotion.

The pair reached the car.

“What's up?” Chloe asked. She tucked her hands into her pockets, palms down, thumbs out. “We ready to roll?”

“Smells like you two already rolled something up,” Kristen said.

Fernando widened his smile, “Yeah, you might have to drive for a bit.”

Kristen shrugged, “I'm used to being the responsible one. I am your boss, remember?”

Max flashed her blue eyes at Chloe. The corners of Max's mouth turned upward in a seductive grin. Chloe found herself unable to look away.

Max directed her speech to Fernando; Her gaze rested firmly on Chloe.

“Fernando,” Max said, “Can I smoke with you next time?”

“That would be sick,” Fernando said, “I'll get you fucked up on sativa. I'd like to see you get all loopy an' shit.”

Max could see the blond clerk behind the register. She was watching them from the window.

Max reached out, cupping her hands on Chloe's belt. She pulled the tall girl to herself. Chloe leaned back at first. Max finally pulled her into proximity. Everyone watched, unsure of what would happen.

“Do me a favor right now,” Max said, looking up into Chloe's eyes. She was rubbing her thumbs on the smooth metal of Chloe's belt buckle.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me,” Max said, “I need it.”

Chloe didn't say anything. She brought her hand up to Max's hip. She leaned over, bringing her lips to Max's. The scent of Max's shampoo was intoxicating, a trigger. Thoughts of Saturday night came pouring back to Chloe, thoughts of the morning's shower, how disappointing it was that they had been interrupted. Chloe felt Max's hand on the back of her neck. The touch was heavy, forceful even. Max ran her thumb along Chloe's hairline, dipping it beneath her beanie. Chloe felt the redness in her cheeks.

Fernando turned away. As much as he enjoyed watching the attractive girls kiss, he felt it would be disrespectful to keep watching.

The woman in the window narrowed her eyes, furrowing her brow. Kristen waved to the clerk. Seeing that she had caught the older woman's attention, Kristen extended her middle finger proudly in the air. She mouthed the words “Fuck You.” The woman scowled, disappearing further into the store.

Max let the excessive display end. Chloe and herself were both huffing at the air.

“What was that about?” Chloe asked.

“Just making sure you were still mine,” Max said

Kristen snickered. Fernando's laugh was loud. Chloe was red; She was half aroused, half embarrassed.

“Let's go,” Max said.

 

\--------------------------

 

There was a hint of agitation in Chloe's voice.

“Yeah David,” Chloe said, “We're okay, we're still on the road, we'll be there in a few hours.”

She had a brand new cellphone in her hands. She was in the back seat of the car.

Kristen had been driving for the last ten minutes.

Fernando had his head turned to the back-seat, listening to the phone call. Max swallowed the last bite of her first taquito. She was poised to take a bite of a her second one. Fernando pointed to the corner of his mouth. Max realized that she had cream cheese on her lip. She ran her tongue over the indicated location, collecting the errant food. Fernando shook his head at the action. Max nodded, suggestively raising her eyebrows at the man. She began running her tongue back and forth over the head of her second taquito. She wrapped her lips around the tip of it, pushing and pulling it deliberately into and out of her mouth. She gripped the long piece of food firm in her palm. After a moment she squeezed it, making the cheesy filling gush from the open top. Fernando began nodding his head, he lifted his thumb upward in approval.

Max bit into the taquito, hard, with vitriol.

Fernando's thumbs up reversed into a thumbs down. He mouthed the word, “Ouch.”

Chloe began smiling at the act; She was still on the phone call with her stepfather.

“No, David,” Chloe said, “What do you mean I sound high? I told you, Max doesn’t sell pot, get over it dude.”

Fernando turned to the front seat. He grabbed a partially eaten clementine. He held the orange up between the front seats. He began massaging the center of it with his fingers. He then leaned over and began flicking his tongue across the fleshy surface. He finally stuck his tongue deep into the center of it, making a slurping noise.

Max snorted hard, almost gagging on the rest of her taquito. Chloe couldn't stop herself from laughing at the scene.

“Jesus Christ,” Kristen said. She rolled her eyes.

“No, I'm not laughing at you David,” Chloe said into the phone. She looked guilty, “I'm sorry. Yeah.”

Fernando put the orange into a plastic bag filled with _trash_.

“Victoria called her?” Chloe asked the phone, “Okay good. Sounds good, we'll see you in a few hours. We will, bye.” Chloe ended the phone call.

“Can we not give our food head while I'm on the phone?” Chloe demanded.

All of them laughed, even Chloe.

“It might be kind of _hard_ ,” Max said, snorting at her own joke, “Pun definitely intended.”

Both Kristen and Chloe groaned; It was as if they had been physically wounded. Fernando had a big dumb grin on his face.

“So what's the dealio?” Max asked, turning to Chloe.

“No change to the plan,” Chloe said, “Just David being David. Victoria talked to Kate. You should call her. I don't trust that rich bitch.”

Chloe's words were harsh. Max wasn't going to argue. Chloe was right. Max thought about Victoria. The short-haired, blonde girl's thin-skinned personality could be unpredictable, sometimes self-destructive.

“You're right,” Max said. She reached to the floorboard, retrieving her messenger bag. Max dug out her old cell phone and a small notepad.

“Give me your old phone,” Max said. She waited for Chloe to dig it out of her pocket. Chloe handed the phone to Max.

Chloe's old phone lit up as Max pressed the power button. A picture of Max was set as the phone's wallpaper and lock screen. Max saw the photo on the screen. Chloe looked at Max, waiting for a response. Max noticed the sheepishness on her partner's face.

“It's a bit creepy Chloe,” Max said, “Just taking my face-book photo for your wallpaper. I noticed it, Wednesday morning.”

“I know you did,” Chloe said, “It's bad, I'm sorry. It's just, you came back into my life in such a powerful way – I couldn't help it. I left my phone sitting out on purpose Wednesday morning. I wanted to know how you would react. I couldn't tell if you were, you know, into me, in that way.”

“I'm glad you did,” Max said, “In hindsight, it made things a lot clearer. It's probably what made me kiss you.”

“There's probably more direct ways to say 'I'm gay for you', but I was scared you'd reject me.” Chloe said.

“I think you dropped the right amount of hints,” Max said, “It was pretty obvious actually.”

“What? Really?” Chloe asked. Her eyebrows raised. She shook her head once, surprised.

Max giggled, “Yeah. Subtlety was never really your strong suit. Don't worry about it,” She put her hand over her chest, feeling for the necklace beneath the neckline of her shirt. “Everything turned out in the end.”

“Yeah,” Chloe sighed.

Max brought up the contact list of Chloe's old phone. She began writing down all of the names and numbers. When finished, she folded the little piece of paper and tucked it into the pencil case in her messenger bag.

“I don't really want to get rid of my phone,” Chloe said, “There are photos I want to keep on there.”

“We'll just take out the SIM card,” Max said, “We'll keep them with the photos in my pencil case.”

Max couldn't fight her nosy nature. She touched a folder labeled 'photos' on Chloe's phone. A selfie of Chloe and Rachel appeared on the screen, black and white, their heads were pressed together in a hug.

Chloe reached down to the floorboard and found Max's pillow. She laid it in her lap and patted, asking for Max's immediacy. Max obliged. She put her things to the floorboard. Max stretched out across the backseat, lying back into Chloe's lap. Chloe wrapped her arm around Max's torso. Max held the phone up so Chloe could see.

Chloe spoke, “Rachel sent me that pic, we both used it, for our phones.”

“Are you sure you want me to look at these?” Max asked.

“I want you to see them,” Chloe said, “It was my life, before you came back.”

Max used her thumb to swipe the screen, bringing up the next photo in the slide show. It was a photo of Chloe, lying in her bed. He hair was its natural strawberry blond color. She was topless, her back turned to the camera, exposed by a sheet. The sheet only covered her from her buttocks down. The hint of her silk underwear could be seen edging out from borderline. She was asleep. The sun was pouring in from her window, resting on her back. Her shoulder-blades were casting shadows. The effect was striking.

“Rachel snapped that on my phone one morning, before I woke up,” Chloe explained.

“She has excellent framing,” Max said, “I love this photo.”

“I knew you would,” Chloe said, “Rachel was great at capturing people.”

Max swiped again. It was a photo of Rachel sitting in Chloe's chair, by her computer desk. She was topless, a sheet, possibly the same from before, was draped over her chest, resting on her breasts. Her nipples were hard, visible through the sheet.

“You two were really together,” Max said.

“We were,” Chloe said.

Max swiped. A photo of Frank Bowers popped up. He was passed out in a lawn chair, sitting on the beach. A large dick was drawn on his forehead, in marker.

“I spent so much time angry at Frank. I guess, somewhere in the back of my head, I always knew we were competing for Rachel,” Chloe said, “Before that, he was my friend, even if he was a dick. I never had a brother, but I guess, I always imagined having Frank as a friend was like having an older brother.”

_Something else Chloe has lost thanks to me,_ Max thought.

Max swiped. A photo of quarters on the ground.

“Pfft,” Chloe said, “We were gluing quarters on the ground. Me and Rachel. This was a while ago.” She smiled.

Max swiped again. The new photo was of a red headed boy with a leather jacket. He had on a pair of sunglasses, smiling on the beach. He had a tattoo on his neck, a gecko. _He's cute,_ Max thought.

“I forgot I had that,” Chloe said, “That's Tommy.”

“Who's Tommy?” Max asked.

Chloe sighed. She momentarily quieted.

“Well,” Chloe said, “I lost my virginity to him.”

“It wasn't Rachel?” Max asked, “I always just assumed it was Rachel.”

Chloe shook her head, “No,” Chloe said, “It was Tommy.”

“I told you that Frank was throwing parties, trying to make some drug connects?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah,” Max said.

Chloe told her story, “It was one of those nights. Rachel and I hadn't really figured out our shit yet, it was a confusing time for me. It wasn't a beach party per se, more like a beach get together. Frank always invited us. He figured it was good to have cute girls around, you know, to try and make himself look cooler. Honestly, most of the people at Frank's parties were alright. Maybe a little scary, definitely people you wouldn't want to get on the bad side of, but usually pretty cool. That night we had started early, smoking at noon, drinking most of the day. The guys Frank invited out were chill. Tommy, some guy named Jason, he brought his girlfriend. There was some other guy who had a finger in the west coast coke trade, I forget his name. Damnit. I guess it's not important.

The story continued, “Rachel had a boyfriend at the time. He drove in, from out of state. His name was Derek. We made a bonfire, grilled food, drank, smoked it up. I'm not even sure Frank tried to talk business, everyone was just having a good time. Rachel was making me jealous all day, kissing her boyfriend, cuddling with him and stuff. I don't even know if I was really comfortable with my attraction to her yet.”

“It was cool next to the ocean. When night came we all crawled under big blankets next to the bonfire we built. Jason and his girl, Rachel and Derek, Tommy and I were kind of the odd ones out, but we were cold, so we just got under a blanket together. We had been together all day already, he was funny, good at talking shit. He made Frank look like a fool a few times, which of course made me like him right away.”

“I think Frank and that other guy went into the RV to do lines or something. I remember watching Rachel and Derek. They couldn't keep their hands off eachother. I thought maybe I could make Rachel jealous. I was still kind of buzzed. I thought, maybe I could just use this guy.”

“Classic mistake.” Kristen said. Both front seat passengers were captivated by the conversation.

“Go on,” Max said.

Chloe continued, “We were already so close, It was really warm, being under the blanket. He was nervous. I remember him jittering. I could tell that he liked me. I just turned and kissed him.”

“Did it work?” Fernando asked, “Was Rachel jealous?”

Chloe laughed.

“It backfired,” Chloe said, “I think, when Rachel saw us making out, it made her feel more comfortable leaving me alone at the fire. She took Derek down the beach so they could be alone. I was disappointed at first, but it didn't matter. I remember Tommy handing me a beer; I think he could somehow sense my disappointment. He was just comforting me, rubbing my back by the fire. It took a few minutes, but something about his touch got to me. It was like, I snapped out of a trance. I didn't care that Rachel had wandered off to fuck her boyfriend. I had this person with me, right now, in front of me. He was cute and funny and _he wanted me_. That's what stuck with me, _he wanted me_. He'd wanted me all day, I think. Flirting with me, teasing me, taking my side against Frank's bullshit, I just wasn't paying attention. I started paying attention. I realized, _I wanted him back_. I didn't give a fuck about where Rachel was at that point.”

Chloe continued, the companions hanging on her words, “He had a pickup. We laid the blanket out in the truck bed. I told him that I was a virgin. He was sweet, making sure that it was what I wanted. He was nineteen and I was only seventeen. I think that scared him. I told him it was what I wanted. He fucked me, right there, in the back of his truck. I was nervous at first, but it got better. It was good, under a full moon, with a cold ocean breeze, I enjoyed it, my first time.”

The other passengers were pensive. Careful not to impinge on the importance of what was being confessed to them.

“So what happened?” Kristen asked, “You can't just leave us hanging with that.”

“Well,” Chloe said, “Afterward, we laid together, rolled up in the big blanket. We stared at the stars, talking about ourselves, our lives. We slept in the truck bed and the sun woke us up. We had a terrible hangover. My mother worked at a diner; I took him there for breakfast. I was kind of rubbing his existence in mom's face. I wanted to take a shower so I asked him to drop me off at my house. He wanted to know what my room looked like, but we both knew what he really wanted to do. I wanted it too. I had him come up to my room. I fucked him again. We fucked for most of the morning, I knew no one would be home.”

“Wow,” Kristen said, “So far, so good. . . ”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, “Unfortunately the ending fucking sucks.”

“Aww man,” Fernando said.

Max was quiet, waiting for the rest of it.

“We took showers and headed back out to the beach,” Chloe continued, “We were just close, all day. I felt really connected to him. We traded phone numbers. He said he was coming back with Jason in a couple weeks for Frank's next thing. We said our good-bye's at the end of the day. He promised he would talk to me. He did. The texting was good. We were still talking for about a week or so, like constant, every day. I'm really feeling like, I'm falling in love with him. I even started thinking of him as my boyfriend. Then the texts just stopped. The first day I thought, oh well, maybe his phone died, or maybe he was really busy. After a few days I started to actually get worried, like, maybe he got hurt or killed or something, I mean, he was kind of involved with a bad crowd, drugs, motorcycles. I knew I had to just wait a few days longer and he would show up at Franks.”

“He didn't show up at Franks?” Kristen asked.

“ _He did_ ,” Chloe said.

Max felt tears hitting her neck. She looked up to find her partner crying.

Chloe was forcing her words out now, trying to squeeze them past the lump that had formed in her throat, “I remember his truck pulling up to the beach. I'd been waiting, all morning, all week. I was so . . . _excited_. My heart was beating so hard, it hurt.” Chloe took a breath. She brought her right hand up, putting it on her chest, “He got out and I smiled, I remember smiling. Someone else got out of the truck, some cunt with black hair and a nose ring. He shook Franks hand . . . then he saw me. He saw me waiting for him by the RV. I could see the guilt. I could see it on his face. _My heart was broken. I knew. . . I knew_ h _e didn't want me anymore_.”

The tears began flooding from Chloe's face. She began wiping at her eyes with her forearm.

Max reached down to the floor, retrieving an unused Starbucks napkin. She handed it to her partner. Chloe dabbed her eyes. The tears stopped quickly; The story had brought on a powerful, but short, burst of emotion. An old hurt, the pain went away fast.

Kristen felt livid, the injustice of the story burning her up.

Chloe's face was stoic now. She said, “It made me feel like some stupid little girl, like, it was my fault for wanting him to love me.”

“You're not stupid,” Kristen said, “Don't say that.”

“I know that now,” Chloe said, “It just made me feel that way, back then.”

“Everyone has a story like that,” Kristen said, “You give yourself to someone, your heart, your mind, your body. You expose yourself to them. You trust that person, not to hurt you, and then, they let you down. It hurts extra hard the first time. It doesn't mean you can just give up, on love, on people. Being hurt, that's part of being alive. I never stopped giving myself to others, even when they kept letting me down. Because I knew. I knew that when I found someone who didn't smash me into a thousand pieces, it would be worth it, all of it, the heartbreak, and in my case, the heartbreaking.”

Fernando was crying in the passenger seat. The tears were silent; He was trying to keep them to himself. Kristen kept her left hand on the steering wheel. Her right hand went to Fernando's lap, squeezing his hand tight.

“I was the other way for so long,” Max said, “I was afraid. I didn't know how to give myself to others.”

“Not anymore,” Chloe said, “You gave yourself to me.”

“Yes I did,” Max said, “My heart's yours now. Please try not to hurt it.”

Chloe bent down and kissed her fiancee. It was brief and sweet.

Max laid there for several minutes. No one said anything. Fernando stopped crying. He pulled out his cell phone and began thumbing it.

Max's nostrils flared in a long nose yawn.

“You can take a nap,” Chloe suggested.

“I have to call Kate,” Max said. Max turned her head, kissing the arm draped over her torso. Chloe lifted it, letting the short girl from her grasp.

“I shouldn't have let you use my dad's body wash,” Max said, “You smell like him right now.”

“I dunno, you could be into that sort of thing,” Kristen said from the driver seat, “Paging Dr. Freud! Has anyone seen Dr. Sigmund Freud?”

“That's sick,” Max said. She still smiled at the humor, along with Chloe and Fernando.

“The Nazi’s got him,” Fernando said.

“It's always the fuckin' Nazi's” Kristen said, “If Marvel comics has taught me anything, It's always the fuckin' Nazi's”

Fernando snickered.

Max began typing into her new phone. She pressed enter. Chloe's new phone buzzed in her left pocket. Chloe pulled the phone from her pocket. She had received a text message.

**Unidentified Number:** Does this work? It's your future wife.

Chloe made a new contact in her phone, labeling the number 'Max'. She began typing back into her own phone.

Max's phone buzzed.

**Unidentified Number:** It works.

Max labeled the contact 'Chloe'.

Max received another text. **Chloe:** I'm so glad we can text again.

Kristen threw out a conversation starter. “Who's your favorite avenger and why?” She asked the passengers.

“Scarlett Johansson,” Fernando said.

Chloe's phone buzzed. She checked the message. **Max:** I'm going to eat your pussy tonight.

“Scarlett Johansson isn't a fucking avenger you dipshit.” Kristen said.

Chloe turned to look at Max. Max refused to make eye contact. She just continued to look at her phone. The corners of Chloe mouth turned upward in excitement. She began typing a message.

“Fine,” Fernando said, “Black Widow.”

“Why though?” Kristen demanded, “Just because she's hot?”

“Kind of,” Fernando said, “I guess it's because she is just a regular person, everyone else has superpowers, she's just a badass.”

“Iron man doesn't have powers, he's just rich and smart,” Kristen said.

“That makes him even less relateable,” Fernando said.

“Hawk-eye doesn't have powers,” Kristen said, “Why not him?”

“Hawk-eye isn't Scarlett Johansson. . .” Fernando said.

Kristen rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” Kristen said, “Chloe, what about you?”

Chloe pressed the send button on her phone. “I like Captain America,” She said, “He always tries to do the right thing, even if he doesn't get it right sometimes. He also cares about his friends.”

“Good answer,” Kristen said, “Max? Favorite avenger?”

Max's phone buzzed. **Chloe:** My body's yours. I'm dying for you to explore it. I need to cum.

Max turned beet red.

“Max?” Kristen asked, waiting for an answer.

“Umm,” Max said, “I guess I like Bruce Banner.”

“The hulk's badass,” Fernando said.

Max looked in Chloe's direction. Chloe was staring at her, waiting to catch her eyes. Chloe's eyes were like a lizard's; She staring at an insect she wanted to devour. Max could suddenly feel the small vibrations of the car ride in her loins. She shifted in her seat, trying to fight her arousal.

“Why?” Kristen asked.

Max looked away from Chloe. She thought about the question.

“He's tragic,” Max said, “Bruce Banner didn't want his powers. He didn't want to be a hero. He tries not to use his power; He knows it's dangerous. It's scary every time has to transform. Sometimes he can't even control it. He never knows what the consequences will be. He might hurt someone, maybe everyone. He's the most interesting character.”

“That's the best answer,” Kristen said, “I was going to try and make some point about Iron Man and how he was the best at talking shit, but you stole my thunder.”

Max smiled. She began typing into her phone. She snickered before sending the message.

Chloe's phone buzzed. Her mouth dropped open as she read the message. She turned to Max. Her eye widened. Her eyebrows raised.

“There's no fucking way I'm letting you do that!” Chloe exclaimed.

Max erupted into laughter. “I'm kidding!,” Max said, “It's a joke!” She kept laughing at Chloe's incredulous look.

The message on Chloe's phone: **Max:** I'm going to fist your butthole so well! ^_^

“What's so funny?” Fernando asked.

“I think I asked a pervert to marry me,” Chloe said. She started giggling herself.

“Are you two sexting back there?” Kristen demanded, “This car is a sext free . . .”

“LOOK OUT!” Fernando yelled,

A large dark object came sprinting into the road. It was an animal, massive, taller than the car.

Kristen jerked the wheel hard to the right, trying to get behind the sudden hazard. She lost control of the car. It was going to spin out.

The sudden, unexpected shift in momentum was jarring. The passengers were jerked hard. Chloe wasn't wearing her seat belt. She was flung across the backseat. Max was pushed against her door with force. She cracked her head hard against the window.

There was a groan as the wheels started to come off the ground.

They were going to flip. Fernando reached for the steering wheel. He pushed it up, counter-clockwise, as hard as he could.

The tires screeched as they slammed back onto the pavement. The car righted itself on the road.

“Slow down,” Fernando said.

Kristen pressed the brake pedal. Fernando pulled the wheel, aiming the car for the shoulder. Kristen was shaking. The slow unwinding of the engine was relieving.

“Relax,” he said.

The car finally came to a halt. Kristen pulled her hands from the wheel, afraid to touch it again. Fernando engaged the parking brake.

Chloe was uninjured. She pulled herself up to her knees.

“Max,” Chloe said, “are you okay?”

“I hit my head,” Max said. Max reached her hand up to the side of her head. She could feel a lump already starting to form where her head had made contact with the glass.

“What the fuck was that?” Fernando said. He turned his head, trying to see what was in the roadway.

“Max!” He said.

Max turned her head. A massive black eye was staring at her, through her window. The head of the beast was massive. It's fur was matted with dry black blood. The face was elongated, ending in a snouted nose. It was a deer. The largest any of them had ever seen.

It was standing inches away from Max's window. The beast's breathing was loud, repetitious, laborious.

_Huff. . . Huff. . . Huff._

With each breath the window began fogging more and more. Max felt a ringing in her head. The ringing grew louder, drowning out every other noise. The animal's breathing remained crystal clear.

Max stared into the eye. It was round, wide, soulless. Max could see her reflection in the dark orb. It let out a terrible groan. Some inhuman grunting noise, low.

“ _It's dying_ ,” Max said. She put her hand to glass. A single tear formed beneath the large, unmoving eye. It began slowly trickling down the creature's dark, matted fur.

Something bumped the car. Chloe turned at the noise, letting out a gasp.

Two more large deer were on the passenger side of the vehicle. One had bumped her window.

“They're all stags,” Chloe said, “It doesn't make sense.”

“There's more,” Fernando said, “Coming across the field.”

Several massive male deer could be seen galloping across the open field, towards the car.

The three surrounding the vehicle started yelling. The moaning noise was gravelly.

Chloe watched in horror as the deer pulled its head back and slammed it's antlers against the glass.

“Fucking drive!” Chloe yelled.

Max flinched as the large animal next to her window brought it's antler hard against the glass. A hairline crack sprouted into the thin barrier.

Fernando put the car into drive.“Go Kristen!” He yelled.

Kristen pushed the pedal to the floor. The tires of the impala began spinning out.

The stag by Max's window pulled its head back to strike at the window a second time.

The tires caught, the car leaping forward on the road. The passengers were thrown back into their seats.

The stag's antlers struck hard against hood of the trunk.

The animals gave chase. The engine of the Impala revved steadily, quickly leaving them behind. Max and Chloe turned to watch.

Several more deer had come to the road. All of them were standing there, silent, together. They were watching the car speed away, an army of black eyes.

 


	15. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 10 - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate Marsh

Kate Marsh was lying in bed. She was watching the digital clock on her cell phone. The time read: 7:45am. It was Monday, October 14th .

_Five minutes,_ Kate thought.

The room was old, the bottom half, paneled by dark wood, the top half, cream colored drywall. It had been an attic at one time. The ceiling slanted in certain spots. The angle of the ceiling matched the slant of roof beyond. The circular window on the wall above Kate's bed was propped open. She was letting in the cool morning breeze.

The room was sparsely dressed. There was an old rocking chair. It was made of some kind of dark wood; It matched the gloomy wooden paneling. There was an old dresser which was covered in a coat of black enamel paint. The paint had begun to wear in certain spots, slowly revealing the original wooden finish beneath. There was a closet at the far end of the room. It's slatted door was finished with the same thick black enamel paint. Two large crosses were nailed against the wall, one on either side of the little closet. Each cross bore the image of Jesus Christ.

Kate's eyes wandered from her phone to the closet door on the far side of the room. Goosebumps rippled across Kate's skin.

_Satan lives there,_ Kate thought. The words had first belonged to Jessica Marsh, Kate's cousin. They were spoken years ago, in jest.

Kate smiled, her thoughts turning to her rebellious kin, how they had played endlessly as children. Visiting her aunt's had become far less enjoyable ever since Jessica left.

Kate reached to a small night table. Her golden cross was resting next to an old ceramic lamp. She retrieved it, holding the cross against her chest. She prayed for Jessica, hoping for the girl's happiness, _wherever she is_. Kate found the prayer widening, her wishes extending to everyone that was in Arcadia Bay, lost or otherwise.

Kate sat up in bed, crossing her legs. She placed the cross around her neck. She reluctantly turned her attention back to her phone. She kept one eye partially affixed to the closet door.

Kate began browsing her text messages. None had come in over the course of the night. Her eyes fell from her phone to her lap. She sighed.

After a moment she thumbed to her text history. She selected a contact, Dana Ward. Dana's most recent texts appeared on the screen. There was a photo of three children sitting at a foldout plastic table. It was a tent. A _Red Cross_ insignia was readily visible on the tent wall. On the table there was a metallic cage with a small black and white bunny inside. The cage door was open, one of the children was presenting the rabbit with a slice of carrot.

A message had come with the picture.

**Dana:** I found some friends that wanted to help take care of Alice!

**Kate:** That makes me smile :)

**Dana:** No news yet. I'll keep you updated.

**Kate:** Thank you Dana

Kate smiled again at the photo. She had received it the previous day. Kate began typing into her phone. She sent the message to Dana's phone.

**Kate:** Any news?

Kate would have to wait for a response. _She's probably still asleep,_ she thought.

Kate felt cold air brush past the back of her neck. She stood up from the bed, bucking the comforter away. She turned to the window, above the bed. She stretched her arms up, aiming to close the round pane of glass. She pushed. It was stuck. Years of neglect had made the window stubborn.

A creaking noise called out from behind her.

Kate spun at the noise. The room was empty. Her eyes fell back to the closet door.

It was open, less than an inch.

Kate stared at the door. The noise of the cool breeze faded away. Her breathing halted. Her hearing focused. The silence of the room grew louder. She felt the sweat begin to snake from her pores. The tiny hairs on her arm stood at attention.

She could feel the cold air still pouring in from the window behind her. She wanted to shut it.

_I'm trapped,_ Kate thought, _I can't look away._

_I'm too scared to look away, but also, too afraid to step forward._

Kate shifted her gaze from the door to the cross on the wall. _Give me the strength to move forward,_ Kate thought, begging.

A powerful breeze blew in from the window. Kate felt it flowing through her hair. The closet door clicked shut, closed by the wind.

Kate stared at the cross on the wall, her eyes widening. She made the sign of the cross. _Thank you,_ she thought. She breathed.

The wind continued to blow. Kate turned to the window once more. She reached up and closed the circular portal. It closed without difficulty. Kate sighed.

Kate gasped, startled by a terrible noise. She turned, her heart leaping in her chest. Her eyes darted to the closet. It was closed.

It was a buzzing noise. Her phone alarm was going off. It was finally 8:00am.

Kate rolled her eyes. She reached down to her bed and grabbed the phone. She swiped to the right, disabling the alarm. She slipped the phone into the pocket of her pajama pants.

Kate went to the dresser and grabbed a small stack of clothes from the top of it. She had prepared her outfit the previous night; She always did. She took the clothes and stepped across the room towards the door to the hall. Kate stopped halfway across the room. Her eyes narrowed at the closet door. It was sitting ajar. _Less than an inch._

Kate gulped. She took three steps forward and exited into the hallway.

 

\---------------------

 

Abigail Marsh was walking down the hall. The woman was dressed in a black blouse. Her long black skirt came to her knees. A large golden cross hung from her neck. She walked with her back straight, posture perfect. She was very thin, too thin. Her long dirty blonde hair ran down past her shoulders. She always wore it half up and half down with a long braid keeping the hair firmly tucked behind her back.

Kate stepped out into the hallway. Her aunt approached her.

“How are you this morning Katie?,” Abigail asked. Her words were flat, cold.

Kate tried to smile. It felt weak. She always found that smiling was difficult when confronted with her aunt's dour demeanor. It's hard to smile at someone with a permanent scowl.

“Good morning aunt Abigail,” Kate said, “I'm feeling good this morning.”

Abigail folded her hands, letting them rest on her stomach. “Wonderful. I heard your alarm going off and decided to check on you. You slept well?” she asked.

Kate nodded. “I tried.”

“That's the best any of us can hope for,” Abigail said, “I see you have some clothes. Would you like me to show you to the bathroom?”

“Um, sure,” Kate said, “I feel like I haven't been here in ages. Thank you.”

“We're family,” Abigail said, “We should see each other more often.” Abigail stepped forward, putting her arms out.

Kate hugged her aunt. The woman was stiff, tall. Abigail lifted her arms up, patting Kate's back. It took a moment but the woman finally made full body contact. Abigail put her hands back down, folded before her.

“Come with me,” Abigail said. She began walking down the hall, motioning for Kate to follow.

Kate followed. The hallway was covered in green floral wallpaper. The floor was laminated wood. It was old, creaking beneath their feet as they went. The bathroom was at the far end of the hall, next to the stairs.

Abigail pushed her way into the partially opened doorway. She flipped the light switch by the door. A dim yellow light bulb illuminated the room. The tile was white, old. The grout was dark, marred by time. There was a counter-top, a sink basin set inside. A white porcelain toilet, matched in style by a claw-footed bathtub. Much like the rest of the home, the room was simple, undecorated but clean, a reflection of its owner.

“Here we are,” Abigail said. She crossed to the far side of the room. She grabbed a white fluffy towel from a hamper. She set it on a silver towel rack next to the bathtub.

“Can I see your outfit?” Abigail asked.

Kate hesitated. _Why?_ she thought. She nodded, handing her clothes over to her aunt.

Abigail looked through the clothing, unfolding it. A white blouse, a grey shawl, and a dark grey skirt. White cotton underwear. Abigail nodded. She refolded the clothes and placed them next to the sink.

“You dress so nice,” Abigail said.

“Thanks,” Kate said. She put her hands into the pockets of her pajamas, unsure of what to say. Kate pulled out her cell phone, placing it on the counter-top.

Abigail knelt down to a cabinet beneath the sink. There was a small shoebox with assorted cosmetics. She brought the box up to the sink. Kate watched her aunt rifling through the contents. Abigail hesitated at a series of shaving razors.

“I'll just take this whole box with me,” Abigail said, “I think I'm going to paint my nails this morning.”

“That sounds nice,” Kate said.

There was a mirror above the sink. Abigail reached up. The mirror folded outward; It was a medicine cabinet.

“Let me just grab my pills real fast before I get out of your way,” Abigail said. She grabbed three different prescription pill bottles, placing them in the shoebox. She paused for a moment before also grabbing a large bottle of aspirin. She shut the medical cabinet.

Kate realized what her aunt was doing. She felt shamed.

“That should do it,” Abigail said, “That's everything I need. The bathroom's yours.”

Kate nodded. She couldn't look her aunt in the eye. “Thanks again,” Kate said.

“Of course,” Abigail said, “I'm going to wake your father up and make breakfast. He should know better than to try and sleep late in this household.”

“I'll be down soon,” Kate said.

Abigail nodded, forcing herself to smile again. She began to leave, but stopped in the doorway.

“You should leave this open,” Abigail said, rapping the door with her knuckle, “It gets really humid in here if you don't.”

“That's fine,” Kate said.

Abigail lingered for a moment and then left the bathroom doorway, disappearing towards the stairs.

Kate sighed. She stared into the mirror.

_At least she cares about me,_ Kate thought, _or at least my eternal soul._

_She should of taken the hair dryer too._ Kate imagined her aunt coming back to the bathroom to find her niece electrocuted, floating in a half-filled bathtub. Kate smiled at the dark thought. Her smile soured, thinking of her father Richard, how upset the man would be.

“I'm sorry,” Kate said. She shook her head, speaking to the mirror.

Kate took a moment to examine herself in the mirror.

Her eyes were hazel, bloodshot. They had always been large and puffy. Her overnight crying had only accentuated the look.

The puffy eyes narrowed. Kate was examining her mouth. She considered her lips to be too small.

There was a bar of soap on the sink. Kate turned the water on.

Kate's dirty blonde hair was done up in a massive loose bun. She lifted her bangs, examining her forehead. Her skin was smooth, white, something she took care of, something she was proud of.

The water reached the appropriate temperature. Kate splashed it on her face. She soaped her face, massaging her skin. She rinsed the soap away. Kate scooped one last handful of water. She ran her wet hand around her neck, enjoying the sensation.

Kate let her hair down. It fell down evenly around her head, like a drape, coming to her shoulders. She smiled at herself through the hair curtain _._

Kate eyed the bathroom door. She closed it, careful that no one would hear. She began stripping herself bare, prepared to shower.

 

\----------------------------

 

Kate was out of the shower. She was examining herself in the mirror again. Kate took her time. She always did when preparing in the mornings. She loved the ritual. She put her hair back up into her trademark messy bun. Her clothes looked good, wrinkle-free. Her cross dangled perfectly on her white blouse, visible in her open, grey shawl.

Kate retrieved her purse from her room. She returned to the bathroom. She pulled two cosmetic items from the handbag.

The first was black eye shadow. She never used much, just a bit. She knew the darkness of the eyeshadow contrasted well with the voluminous whites of her ample eyes. The image was particularly striking coming from behind her bangs, which often hid her forehead and sometimes a portion of her eyebrows.

The second was bright red lipstick. It highlighted her lips, emphasizing them, increasing their size tremendously in Kate's mind.

Kate cleaned the bathroom, wiping down the sink, disposing of the towel in a hamper. She left the bathroom feeling confident in herself.

Kate walked to the end of the hall. She paused at the head of the staircase.

She heard her father's voice.

Richard Marsh was caught in a discussion with his older sister.

“Linda told me the same thing,” Richard said.

“You should listen to her,” Abigail said, “you married a good woman.”

Kate sat down on the top step of the staircase. She cupped her hand over her ear, trying to hear the conversation better.

“N-No,” Richard said, “We sent her to art school because that's what she wanted. She was depressed before that. We were trying to make her happy. I'm not going to tell my daughter what she can and can't do in life.”

“Clearly that method has been working out for both you _and_ Katie,” Abigail said.

“I'm not going to take advice from someone who drove their only daughter away,” Richard said.

“Fuck you Richard,” Abigail snapped, her voice was starting to rise.

“Now you really sound like Linda,” Richard joked.

“You know what's going to happen?” Abigail said, her voice had become menacing, cruel, “The same thing that happened to daddy. That's what is going to happen to Katie if you don't do something Richard.”

“Shut your mouth!” Richard screamed.

Kate flinched. Kate had not often been exposed to her father's temper. It terrified her every time.

“You're a sick woman Abby.” Richard said. His words dripped with disgust and disappointment.

Kate could hear her aunt crying from the kitchen.

Abigail wailed. “ _I'm sorry_ ,” she cried, “ _I'm not good. . .”_

_“_ J-Just stop,” Richard stuttered, “S-Stop Abby.”

Kate felt terrible. Richard's stutter only surfaced when the man was upset.

“Katie shouldn't of slept in that room,” Abigail said, “ _It makes me sick._ ”

_That room?_ Kate thought. She stood, turning from her spot on the stairs. Kate looked past the bathroom, past the master bedroom. She focused on the room where she had slept. The dark wood of the door looked jet black in the dimly lit hallway.

“Abigail I'm sorry,” Richard said. He continued to try and comfort his sobbing sister.

Kate stepped into the hallway. She began walking back to her room. _The same thing happened to daddy._ Abigail's words played out in her mind. The hall felt longer, narrower than it did before. The green floral pattern of the wallpaper ran together, after a while it became dizzying. Kate could feel her heart beating in her chest as she got closer to the room.

Kate reached the door. She turned her head back and forth, looking down the hall. Light was pouring up into the hallway from the staircase. It suddenly seemed like a much more pleasant place to be.

Kate reached her hand out, aiming for the door handle.

The door was open. Less than an inch.

_I just closed this,_ she thought.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Adrenaline dumped into Kate's bloodstream.

She snapped her head back toward the staircase. Nothing. She looked further down the hall in the opposite direction. _Did I hear something?_ Kate shook her head, _No._

She pushed the door in front of her open. It opened slow. Inch by inch the room was revealed. First, the round little window, underneath it sat the bed she had spent the night in, next came the black enameled dresser, her suitcase sitting on top. The rocking chair was next. The closet finally came into view.

There was a small whistling noise coming from the window. The cool breeze outside was pushing itself through some unseen crevice. Kate fumbled her hand along the wall, looking for the light switch, unwilling to remove her eyes from the closet door. She found it.

The light in the center of the room clicked on. The shadows of the hallway deepened. Kate stepped into the room quickly, another shiver coming over her. She shut the door behind her.

Kate sat down on the end of the bed. She stared at the black slatted closet door.

She found her attention drawn to the crosses, one on either side of the door. Christ was crying, the crown of thorns digging into his scalp, blood running down his face. His body was covered in lacerations.

Kate stood up. She crossed to the closet door. She grabbed the handle, turned the knob, and pulled it open.

Kate felt her breath leave her.

She was staring into nothingness, a great abyss.

The whistling noise from the window stopped.

Kate heard a creaking noise behind her. The sound of wood rolling against wood, back and forth.

She was too afraid to turn away from the gaping maw that was the closet. She knew that, if she averted her eyes, some unseen predator would leap at her, carry her off into the darkness with its talons.

There was a chain. Kate reached out and pulled it. The closet lit up with light; It was empty.

The closet was empty.

It was wood paneled from top to bottom. A beam for hanging clothes ran on either side of the enclosed space. Kate looked up. There was a single rafter, a holdout from the time the room was part of the attic.

There was a sudden noise. Kate felt her heart leap in her chest. She spun towards the rocking chair. It was still. Her phone was ringing in her purse.

“Damnit,” Kate said. She was embarrassed, even though no one was present.

The tension fell from her body. She leaned against the open doorway of the closet. She reached into her purse and found her phone. She answered the call.

“Hello?” Kate asked, “Dana?”

“Hi Kate,” a familiar voice said over the phone, “This is Victoria.”

 


	16. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 10 - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 - Part 1 and Chapter 10 - Part 2 were supposed to be one lone segment together. Shit happens.

“Victoria?” Kate asked. Her face was blank. For a moment nothing registered.

“Yeah,” Victoria said, “It's Victoria.”

“Victoria. . .” Kate said, repeating the name.

There was several seconds of silence.

“Are you okay?” Kate asked, “Where are you? Everyone's looking for you. Do you need help?”

Victoria was sitting in Jim Gates' living room. The brown corduroy couch was beyond uncomfortable. David Madsen was at the kitchen table, digging through the remainder of Anderson Berry's files.

“No, I don't need help,” Victoria said, “I'm with a friend – Kate listen.”

Kate stayed quiet. Her back was pressed against doorway of the closet. She let herself sink to the ground. She pulled her knees up against her chest. She would listen to anything Victoria had to say.

“I'm not a good person,” Victoria continued, “I'm sorry. I hurt you, and, it wasn't fair.”

Kate sighed. Victoria heard it coming through her phone.

“I want to forgive you,” Kate said, “I want to forgive you _so badly_ Victoria. I know it's the right thing to do . . . but, you were so mean to me.” Tears began trickling down her cheeks.

“You don't understand,” Kate cried. She sobbed, “You don't understand what you did to me.”

“I”m sorry. . .” Victoria said. She didn't know what else to say. She could hear the girl's crying, her increased breathing, her sobbing. Her own eyes began watering.

_How can I make her understand?_ Kate thought.

“Making friends is hard for me,” Kate said, “I'm not rich. I can't be trendy like you are. I'm not good at knowing what people want. I'm not even sure I know what _I_ want. Sometimes I feel like, I grew up on another planet. I'm really lonely. I always have been. The reason I like going to church is so I can be with other people.”

She continued, “When I was younger, I figured all I had to do was be a good person and people would like me. That's what my mother told me. It was a lie though. People judge you. They're always trying to figure out if you're worthy of their time or not. Church is the same way, but I didn't want to be alone anymore. I told myself that I would be a good person. I'd be whatever they wanted me to be, just so I didn't have to be alone anymore.”

“It wasn't enough,” Kate said, “I couldn't live my life like that, the way other people wanted me to. It's the reason I wanted to go to Blackwell. I thought, maybe I could meet some people who could like me for who I am. I really just wanted to be myself for a change.”

“Do you know how painful it is?” Kate asked, “When you just want to be yourself, but, you feel like you can't?”

Kate was surprised by a series of sobs coming over the phone.

“We're more alike than you know,” Victoria said.

“No we're not!” Kate yelled. Her voice was filled with anger, “Don't say that again.”

Her anger melted away. Her face buckled under the pain. She began sobbing.

“ _I worked so hard. . ._ ” she cried, “I had to fight to go to Blackwell. My mother fought me every step of the way. I gave up so much, you could never understand. I spent hours drawing and painting and practicing. I needed to have good grades, school isn't easy for me Victoria, I had to work at it, and I did, because I knew that everything would be worth it, I knew I would get into Blackwell if I sacrificed enough.”

She continued, “And I did. I did it. I was so happy. I was making new friends, and I felt like I really got to be myself for the first time. You were mean to me from the beginning, but it didn't bother me, I had dealt with mean people before; I wasn't going to let you ruin what I had worked so hard for.”

She sighed.

“Then the video came out. . .” Kate said, “Everyone watched it and thought, _Oh, I guess that is what Kate is really like._ But I'm not like that. How could I explain that to everyone? That the person on the video wasn't really me. . . I couldn't. All I ever wanted to do was be myself, but you made it so that no one would ever know who I really was, they would doubt me, forever. You destroyed everything I ever wanted.”

“It's even worse than that though,” she continued, “Now I can't even be with the people at church anymore. I always thought that, if Blackwell didn't turn out well for me, at least I could just go home and be a good person again. I wouldn't be completely happy, but I would never be alone, I would always have the nice people at church. _I don't even have that anymore Victoria, you took that away from me too._ ”

Kate broke down. She let loose a flurry of sobs and cries.

The noise was one of the most pitiful things Victoria had ever heard. She began weeping, finally cognizant of what her actions had wrought. She was responsible for the destruction of another human being, her hopes, her dreams, her past, destroyed in their totality.

_I'm a monster,_ Victoria thought, _I should be dead, like Nathan, and Mark._

_“_ I'm really lucky,” Kate said. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her grey shawl, trying to stop herself from crying, “I'm really lucky that Max saved me. She showed me that I wasn't alone. She was going to have my back no matter what, even if you made me look like something I wasn't.”

Both young women listened to each other cry for several moments.

“Max saved me too,” Victoria said. She was still crying, “Even though I didn't deserve it.”

“Max saved you?” Kate asked, “What happened?”

“It's so terrible,” Victoria said, “It's the reason I called.”

“Max is okay right?” Kate asked, a hint of panic in her voice.

“Max is okay,” Victoria said, “She's fine. She's with that Chloe girl.”

“Tell me what happened,” Kate said.

“Nathan drugged you Kate,” Victoria said, “At the vortex club party.”

“I knew it,” Kate said.

“I didn't know,” Victoria said, “There's more.”

“Go on,” Kate said.

Both of their tears had stopped now.

“It wasn't just Nathan,” Victoria said, “He was helping someone else.”

“I remember Nathan taking me somewhere,” Kate said.

“It was Mr. Jefferson,” Victoria said, “Nathan drugged you. When you were passed out, he took you to Mr. Jefferson.”

There was silence on both ends of the phone.

“I guess that makes sense,” Kate said, “Nathan got scared and he took me to get help. Mr. Jefferson didn't tell me because he didn't want me to get hurt. He didn't report Nathan because he was afraid of being fired by the Prescotts.”

Victoria felt her heart break. She tried her best to not cry.

“No,” she said, “Nathan and Mark were working together. They drugged you, and, when you were passed out, they took photos of you.”

Kate was silent again, letting Victoria's words sink in.

“How do you know this?” she asked.

“Because,” Victoria said, “Mark did the same thing to me.”

“After the party on Thursday he kidnapped me. He lured me in with the 'everyday heroes' contest,” she explained, “Nathan tried to warn me, he tried to save me. Jefferson killed him. He tied me up, showed me photos of you, they were so sick, he told me I drove you right into his arms. He had these ugly red binders. They were filled with other victims, photos of them, dozens of women. Rachel Amber was one of them. They killed her, Jefferson and Nathan. Jefferson pumped me full of sedative. I was supposed to die, but I didn't.”

She continued, “Max figured it all out, she was going to be next, after me, but somehow she figured it out while trying to find Rachel Amber. She told David. David saved me.”

“David Madsen?” Kate asked.

David was listening to the phone call, he had been for some time now. Victoria turned to look at the man.

“Yes,” Victoria said. She was resolute, “David Madsen saved my life.”

Kate was quiet. She looked upward at the rafter above the closet. It seemed so out of place, discordant to the rest of the house.

“Kate, if you don't believe me, you'll have to talk to Max,” Victoria said.

“I believe you Victoria,” Kate said, “I glad you told me everything.”

“You can't tell anyone what happened,” Victoria said. She decided a lie was the most convenient here, “Sean Prescott is trying to save face. The cops are crooked, you have to stay away from Arcadia Bay. He tried to kill us. He is trying to cover everything up.”

“Ok Victoria,” Kate said. She felt shocked, “I don't know what to think right now.”

“Promise me,” Victoria said, “ Promise me you won't tell anyone where you're at for a little while, even though you hate me.”

“I should hate you,” Kate said.

“I ruined your life,” Victoria said, “You have to let me try and fix it. I can help, I don't know how yet, but you have to let me try. Please Kate, I feel terrible, I didn't know what I was doing. I'm not even a real person.”

Kate was furious. She made a noise, “Rrrrgh.” _Fuck her,_ she thought, _Selfish cunt, let her be guilty._ She pulled back her foot and kicked the doorway as hard as she could, frustrated by her situation. The bottom of her foot hit the wooden doorway hard.

Kate jumped; She was startled by a slamming noise. She looked around the room, reminded of the terror she had felt opening the closet door. A cross had come off the wall, tumbling to the ground. It was broken; The little effigy of Jesus Christ was missing his arm.

_Fine,_ Kate thought, _I'll do it._

She spoke, “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. If Christ was able to forgive all of us, the least I can do is forgive you.”

“You're actually a saint,” Victoria said, “I'll make it up to you somehow, I swear to god.”

Kate shook her head at Victoria's choice of words.

“You have to work with me,” She said, “You swear that you'll keep talking to me?”

“I swear it,” Victoria said.

There was silence over the phone.

“Can we stop there?” Kate asked.

“Yeah,” Victoria said.

“I'm going to text you all day,” Kate said, “I have questions, but, I want to talk to Max.”

“You should,” Victoria said, “Please text me.”

“Good-bye Victoria.”

“Good-bye Kate.”

The phone call ended.

 

 

 

\-----------------------------

 

Kate sat in the doorway of the closet for several minutes. She looked at her phone. She saved Victoria's number under the contact 'Victoria'. She began typing. She sent her message.

**Kate:** Did they do things to me? Sexual things?

The response was immediate. A burst of texts.

**Victoria:** No.

**Victoria:** I don't think so. Most of the girls had clothes on, including you.

**Victoria:** Mark told me he was obsessed with innocence. I don't think he would touch us.

**Kate:** That doesn't really make me feel better.

**Victoria Chase:** Me neither. I'm sorry.

Kate sighed. She looked to the fallen cross. She leaned over, reaching for the broken object. She lifted it in her hands. She ran her thumb over Jesus, feeling guilty that she had broken him.

“I'm sorry too,” she said.

She felt an unsettling sensation on the back of her hand. She twisted her wrist to see. Something was crawling on her. She flicked her hand, a primal response. The cross clattered to ground between her legs. She looked into the closet, trying to identify the culprit. A brown house centipede was sitting on the floorboards.

“Gross,” she said.

Kate felt goosebumps travel across her flesh as fifteen tiny legs began shuffling across the ground. She rocketed up from her seat in the doorway. She began running her hands along her body, making sure there was nothing else on her. The trauma of having an insect on you can take hours or days to shake. She narrowed her eyes at the frightening little insect. She watched as it ran towards the back of the closet. The centipede ran to the baseboard, it began to climb up the wooden paneled wall.

It disappeared.

_What?_ she thought. She stepped into the closet, running her eyes along the back wall.

The centipede appeared again. She leaned closer. It began crawling up the wall. After a moment it climbed into a crack, disappearing from view. She ran her eyes along the crack. It ran from the ground all the way to the top edge of the wooden paneling. The centipede reappeared two feet to the right, out of an identical crack. She felt a pit forming in her stomach. She reached out her hand and pushed. The wall rattled. A tiny puff of dust came billowing out from the crevices.

“Shoo,” Kate said. She blew air toward the centipede trying to make it move away from the edges of the hidden door. It scuttled to safety, upwards to the rafters.

Kate placed her palm square on the back panel. She pushed upward. The wood began lifting in it's track. After being raised for a few inches she could feel it coming lose. She slipped her fingers into the cracks, praying no other insects were inside. She pulled the wooden panel free, placing it against the left most wall of the closet.

Kate examined the space she had opened. It was a small passage, only two feet wide, maybe five feet high. It was black inside. Cold air began pouring through the opening, filling the closet.

Kate bent at the knee, trying to get a better view into the space.

“Katie,” A voice called out.

Kate flinched, her hand going to her chest. Her father Richard was standing behind her, in the closet doorway. She turned to face him.

Richard Marsh was tall. Like most of the Marsh family, he had dirty blond hair, even though it was getting pretty thin. His eyes were small, sad, angled downward. His glasses were oval, wiry. He was wearing a dress shirt and slacks. He had on a grey sweater vest.

“What are you doing Katie?” he asked.

“What is this?” she asked, ignoring his question. Her eyes went from her father to the open passage.

“It's a storage space,” he said.

She looked at her father.

“What happened here?” she asked.

Richard sighed, pushing air out of his lungs.

“Your grandfather wasn't a good person,” he said. He couldn't take his eyes away from the hole in the wall. His eyes were blank, lost in the past.

Kate had never seen Richard like this. Her concern for her father overcame her curiosity. “It's okay,” she said, “Let's close it.”

“No,” he said, “Come with me.”

Richard stepped forward. He hunched down and disappeared through the passage.

Kate bent down and stepped into the darkness, right behind him.

“There should be a light,” he said.

Kate listened to her father rustling around the dark.

“Argh,” he said.

Kate's stomach lurched. “What?” She demanded.

“Be careful,” he said, “There are spiderwebs.”

She shuddered, remembering her recent contact with an insect.

After a moment there was the pulling of a chain. A light bulb illuminated the area.

The area was floored with simple wooden boards. Old insulation covered the walls. Kate wondered if she should even be breathing the air. The room was a quarter the size of the bedroom on the other side of the closet. A large portion of it was filled with old cardboard boxes with various labels. Being in the room gave Kate a strong sense of claustrophobia.

“This is what the attic was like?” she asked.

“I suppose so,” Richard said, “The room was built before I was born, I never saw the original attic. Be careful, don't touch the walls.”

There was something wrong with the walls. It took a moment for Kate to realize what the problem was. The studs were covered in nails. Hundreds of nails lined the room. Any place that could support a nail had one.

“The nails,” she asked, “Why?”

There was a wooden desk. Richard grabbed one of many cardboard storage boxes, he set it down on the desk. He unfolded the cardboard, motioning for his daughter to look inside.

Kate stepped further into the room, looking into the box. It was filled with crosses. Gold, silver, wooden, ceramic, large and small, some adorned with Christ, some barren, every type of cross imaginable was present.

Richard tapped two more large cardboard boxes. “These boxes too,” he said, “Filled with the same.”

Kate stared at the nails. She tried imagining the room, each of the nails bearing a different type of cross. The thought was terrifying.

“I haven't been in this room for forty three years,” he said, “You're grandfather spent most of his time here, at this desk, he would sit and read the bible, over and over.”

Richard pictured his father sitting at the desk, tall and blond, thumbing through his black leather bible. The man would rock, forward and backward, non-stop. Thinking about it now made Richard ill. His father's words came back to him: _Dicky Dicky Dicky boy, don't you know you're god's real joy?_

“Why?” Kate asked.

“I don't know,” he said, “I wish I could travel back in time and ask him. I was too young. He was in world war two, I think it had something to do with that. Your grandmother told me that he was a different person before the war.”

_Abi Abi Abi-gail, if you sin you'll go to hell._

“He used to lock your aunt in here, after he had beaten her,” he said, “ He would take the light bulb with him. She would be trapped in the dark. I remember listening to her cry from the other side of that passageway.”

“That's awful,” Kate said. She didn't know what else to say. She was horrified.

Richard remembered being in closet, listening to his sister crying on the other side of the wooden panel. He was no more than six years old. _Come away from there Richard,_ his father called, _Your sister is repenting._

“I was just a little boy.” he said,“I wasn't strong enough to help her.”

Kate's eyes were filled with concern. “Let's get out of here,” she said. She grabbed her father's arm and pulled him back to the opening. She watched her father push his way back into the closet. She reached up and pulled the chain, making the room pitch black again. She ducked down and traversed the narrow opening.

“Look,” Richard said. He turned the wooden panel over. The reverse side was covered in scratch marks. There were flecks of old blood, blackened by age, “Abigail scratched her nails raw trying to escape. She was only nine.”

Kate shook her head, upset. She couldn't look at the door panel.

Richard placed the panel into the wooden track. It dropped back into place. Kate stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her father. He squeezed his daughter tight.

After a moment he let her go.

“What happened to him?” she asked.

“My father hung himself,” he said. He reached up and touched the rafter above the closet, “Right here.”

Kate felt sick.

“Abigail found him,” he said, “It was his final act of cruelty.”

Kate stepped back, out of the closet. She backed her way to the rocking chair. She sat down, speechless. Richard pulled the little chain. The light of the closet clicked off. He bent down and picked up the broken cross. He closed the closet door and walked to the edge of the bed. He sat down.

“Why didn't you ever tell me any of this?” She asked.

Richard looked vacant. He shook his head, “I don't think about it that often. I was able to move past it. There are good people in the world and there are bad people. I like to think that most people know that. The thing people don't talk about are the monsters. There are people that carry darkness in their hearts, they destroy the lives of everyone around them, whether they mean to or not. Sometimes monsters are born that way, sometimes they get created, they can be friends or family or total strangers. There are two things you can do. You can give in and let a monster ruin your life, or you can face them head on, try and accept what they did to you. It's difficult sometimes. I know your aunt wasn't strong enough. She's been living in the past her entire life.”

He continued, “The sad thing is, even though your grandfather was a monster, he was still our father. We loved him. It's still painful, over forty years later, the loss of a monster. But then, I imagine losing someone like you, an angel. . .” Richard pulled off his glasses, his face was warped with grief.

“ _Katie please . . . promise me you'll never hurt yourself,”_ he begged.

Kate brought her right hand up to her face, covering it. She was crying uncontrollably, experiencing full catharsis.

“I'm sorry,” she cried, “I'm so sorry. I won't hurt myself. I'll never do that to you. I promise.”

 


	17. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 10 - Part 3

"Pull over," Fernando said.

"I'm afraid," Kristen responded. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tight.

The black Impala was cruising next to a large open field. The road was a service drive, shadowing the I-5.

"I feel like, I got hit in the head with a baseball," Max said. She brought her hand up to the side of her head. There was a patch of raised skin where her skull had made contact with the window.

Chloe was surveying the vehicle's surroundings. There was an open field to the right. To the left was a grassy embankment leading up to the highway. The road itself was surprisingly empty.

"Deer free," Chloe said, "You should stop, before we reach the woods."

Kristen began braking. The idea of more deer bolting from the upcoming patch of woods was frightening. She pulled over, put the car in park, and cut the ignition.

"I'll drive," Fernando said.

"Please," Kristen begged.

Fernando exited the vehicle, he walked around to the driver side door. He waited for Kristen to pull herself out of the driver seat. He wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him fiercely.

"You did good," he said. He hated seeing her shaken. _She's the fearless one,_ he thought.

Kristen inhaled, taking in his scent. He smelled like old spice body wash and marijuana. She felt comforted by the smell, it was familiar, nostalgic. "I'm okay," she said. She pulled away. Kristen walked around the car, buckling herself into the passenger seat.

Fernando evaluated the vehicle, stepping towards the rear driver side door. The deer had done superficial damage, leaving a series of dents and scrapes. "Unfortunate," he said, shaking his head at the damage. He strapped himself into the driver seat, closing his door.

“You're okay?" Chloe asked her partner.

Max was staring at the crack in her window. She was recalling the image of the great stag's eye, black, unmoving, terrible.

"Max," Chloe said. She placed a hand on Max's shoulder She was delicate, trying not to startle her.

"I'm okay," Max said. She reached up and squeezed Chloe's hand.

She posed a question to everyone, "Can we find a restaurant or something? We need a break after that."

Fernando looked at the faces of the women he was with. Each of them seemed drained, almost nauseous. "Yeah," he said, "That's probably a good idea." He started the ignition of the car and began driving.

"I've never seen deer do anything like that," Kristen said. She looked at Max, hoping for an answer.

Max had no answers. "Me either," she said.

"It was insane," Chloe said.

"The big one was bleeding," Fernando said, "You think a hunter got him, something like that?"

"I don't know," Max said, "Something hurt him."

They were all silent.

Fernando turned away from the highway. He drove, not quite knowing what he was looking for. The world was filled with woods, equal parts coniferous and deciduous. The thinning branches of the leaved trees burned brightly.

Fernando pulled into the parking lot of a diner. _The Blue Catfish_. The parking lot was lined with several apple trees. The cement itself: covered in fallen apples. Fernando pulled into a parking space. Everyone exited the vehicle, stretching their limbs.

"This place looks like a dump," Chloe said, evaluating the building. It was old, brown bricked. The sign was plain white with blue lettering. A picture of catfish beside the name. She walked around the car to stand with Max.

"I like it," Max said.

"It has character," Kristen said, stealing the words from Max's mouth.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "You like anything that's run down and sad Max."

"I know. That's why I like you so much," Max said. She was smugly satisfied.

"Ouch," Chloe said, smiling at the sick burn.

Max peeled her hoodie off and tossed it on the back seat before closing her door. "I need to make a call," she said. She leaned back against her car door, pulling out her phone.

"Can you look at her head?" Chloe asked Fernando, she motioned towards Max.

"I told you that I'm not medically trained right?"

"Maybe you should be," Chloe said. She shrugged, "You'd be a great nurse."

He had never considered it before. The words sank in.

"I'm going pee," Kristen called out. She began walking towards the flat, square building. Chloe followed after her.

"My head's fine," Max said, talking to Fernando. She didn't look up from her phone, "Chloe's sweet, but, we both know you'd rather be a gynecologist than a nurse."

Fernando turned to Max. He smiled. He went to the trunk of the car. He pulled out a flashlight from his black gym bag.

Max had a little piece of paper in her hands. She was programming a number into her phone. She labeled the new contact 'Kate'. Fernando's reflection appeared on the tiny screen. He was standing before her. She looked up to meet his bright brown eyes.

"I'm going to shine this light in your eyes and see if they dilate," he said, "People do that in movies right?"

"Sounds like science to me," she said.

"Here," He said, "let me take a look at your eyes."

She batted her eyes at him a few times, opening them wide. He leaned down, examining them.

"You're so short," he said. He chuckled, "Come here." He walked to the back of the car, motioning for her to follow. She did.

Fernando stepped forward and placed his hands on Max's hips. "I'm going to lift you up on three," he said. He counted down the numbers. She hopped on three. He hoisted her up onto the hood of the trunk. She was still about an inch shorter than him, even while sitting on the car.

He stepped forward, between her legs. "Now," he said, "Let me see your eyes."

Max opened them wide, allowing him to really see.

"They're always darker than I remember," He said, "Navy blue, maybe, midnight blue?"

"You'd actually be a terrible nurse," she said, "Flirting with every cute girl, not caring if she has aids or appendicitis, they'd fire you in a week."

Fernando laughed. He flipped on the flashlight, immediately shining it at Max's face.

She flinched, turning her head away from the obnoxious light. "Don't," she said, agitated. Her anger turned into a laugh, "Dick-head."

He brought his free hand up to her face. "Open," he said. She opened her eyes wide again. He brought the beam of light up against her left eye He used his thumb to keep her eyelid propped open. He observed her pupil. The darkness found in the center of Max's eye quickly shrank to the size of a pinhole, replaced by the dark blue hue of her iris.

"The other," he said. He switched hands, checking her right eye. It was the same. She blinked for several seconds. He brushed a few errant strands of hair off of her face. He ran his thumb behind her ear. They both knew it was too intimate.

"They seem fine," He said, "If you start passing out or suddenly get the taste of oranges in your mouth we'll know you have concussion, or something.”

"Hey, I'm sorry I never called you," she said, "When I left for Arcadia Bay, I told you I'd call, but I didn't, you _or_ Kristen. It was a shit thing to do."

"It's cool," he said, "If I met someone like Chloe I probably wouldn't look back either."

"It's not like that." She said.

"I know," he said, eager to speak, "I'm sorry. That felt like a shot." He wrung the flashlight gently in his hands. He clicked it off.

Fernando turned, hopping up onto the trunk of the car, sitting next to Max.

"It's okay. You're kind of right in a sense," she said, "I feel sorry that I didn't call, but, I don't regret it."

She continued, "Everything I've done, or haven't done in my life has led to me and Chloe being together. I wouldn't change any of it. Even if I had the power to."

“That's a beautiful sentiment. . .” he said.

"Kristen broke up with me this morning,"he sighed. The words dripped out of him. He sighed, rubbing at his temples.

"Tell me," Max said. She had rarely seen him this vulnerable.

"We got back together, after you left," he explained, "I thought we were really going to stay together this time. _Nope,_ didn't happen. I think it's clear now, it's never going to happen. This morning we agreed that we should just stay friends, we wouldn't try again."

"This morning?" Max asked.

"Yep," He said, "Standing out on your front porch, I made her break my heart. Now we're going on this trip and being attacked by deer. I'm a mess right now. I've been flirting with two gay girls all morning even though it's pretty clear there's nothing in it for me. It's jealousy. The thing is, I don't know who I'm more jealous of, you or Chloe."

Max stared at the boy in front of her. She thought about how much he had meant to her growing up, the idea of him, the sexuality he had represented. She remembered being sixteen years old, being alone under her comforter. There were nights she had touched herself, thinking only of him, hoping that he would be her first.

Her face grew serious. "Fernando, fuck Kristen," Max said. Her words carried outrage, "She's my friend, maybe my best friend if you don't count Chloe, but fuck her, she's an idiot. She had no idea what she had when she was with you, she never did. I mean it."

"Thanks Max," he said. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed at the praise.

Max held her arms out asking for a hug. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms deeply around her. She could feel how strong he was, his arms, thick and powerful, like tree branches wrapped around her midsection. She put her arms up around his back, going beneath his open grey hoodie. She was feeling the muscles in his back. She enjoyed his scent. She knew, he was enjoying hers. A primal exchange.

The animal part of her wanted him to rip her clothes off. She imagined him mounting her, right there in public, fucking her on the hood of the car, fucking her like the animal she was. She couldn't fight her arousal.

The hug ended. She couldn't look him in the eye, afraid that somehow he would know what she wanted, afraid that he could sense her lust, that he would act on it. She panicked silently at the irrational thought.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, noticing her sudden quietness.

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine," She said, "I need to make a call. Could you, um, order me a plate of fries? They should be ready by the time I'm done."

"Yeah," he said. He raised his thumb towards the building, "I'll meet you in there."

Max watched him walk away. Her eyes lingered on him. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, experiencing the cool shade beneath the apple tree. Her arousal went away.

She pulled her phone from her front pocket. She brought up the new contact 'Kate'. She pressed the call button.

The phone rang exactly four times before it was picked up.

"Hello?" It was Kate Marsh's voice.

"Kate?" Max asked, "It's me Max."

Kate was sitting in a rocking chair. It was her aunt Abigail's home. She had been talking with her father Richard. Richard Marsh was sitting on edge of the bed.

"Oh, Max," Kate said. The excitement in her voice was apparent, "I'm so glad you called me. We have to talk."

"May I see that phone Katie?" Richard asked, "If you don't mind that is."

"You're okay right Max?" Kate asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I called to talk." Max said

"My dad wants to talk to you," Kate said.

Before Max could say anything she heard the phone being passed between hands. A man's voice came over the receiver.

"Max Caulfield?" Richard asked.

"Yes," Max answered, trying to be formal, "This is her."

"This is Kate's father," Richard said, "Miss Caulfield, I can never fully express how grateful I am to you. You saved my little girl's life. In doing so, you saved our entire family. You'll never fully understand how much pain you spared us from, my wife, my sister, my daughters. We'll pray for you, every day, for your health, for your happiness, for a graceful life."

Max felt she could hear the man crying. His gratitude was overwhelmingly sincere. She began shedding tears of her own. "I only tried to do the right thing," she said, "You don't have to thank me. I'm just happy that I was able to help someone, especially a friend."

"You were the only one that _did_ the right thing, the only one that helped," he said, "I _do_ have to thank you. You should come and visit us sometime; It's only about a 6 hour drive from Seattle to Lewiston. You could stay the night and come with us to church in the morning. We'll feed you, pay for your gas, everything."

"That sounds like it would be great," she said. She was wiping away the tears from her face, “I'd really like that.”

"I'm giving you back to Katie now," he said.

"Thank you Mr. Marsh," Max said.

Richard handed the phone back to his daughter. "I'll let you two talk for awhile," he said. He grabbed the broken cross from the end of the bed, "I'm going try to glue Jesus back together."

"Thanks dad," Kate said, "For being honest with me this morning."

"Always," he said. He left the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

Max heard Kate thanking her father.

"Max, you still there?" Kate asked.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry if that was awkward."

"It wasn't," Max said, "I've been on an emotional roller coaster this week. What he said was nice. Something to look forward to."

"I'm on an emotional roller coaster myself right now," Kate said, "I don't even know where to start."

"You live in Idaho?" Max asked.

"Yeah," Kate answered, laughing. He embarrassment was plain, "It's lame, It's why I wanted to go to Blackwell, to get out of there, among other things."

"You're in Spokane right now though, right?" Max asked.

"Yeah," Kate said, "Spokane Valley, um, it's east of Spokane. My aunt lives here. We stopped by to see her before heading home. We'll probably be here for a few days."

"Victoria called," Kate said.

"What did she say?"

"A lot of things," Kate said, "She said she was sorry, that she wanted to make amends, for what she did to me. We talked about how she had hurt me. I forgave her Max. I think we might actually become friends."

"That's a good thing," Max said, "Victoria was in a bad place too. She's weak, far weaker than you are, or me."

"I know that now," Kate said, "She told me other things, about Nathan, and Mr. Jefferson. They kidnapped me, took photographs, Victoria too. Max, is it true?"

"It's true," Max said. She sighed, unsure how she would feel after the conversation, "Jefferson kidnapped women and tortured them. He was using Nathan. I'm not sure why yet, something to do with the Prescott family. Nathan was the one that drugged you. Chloe and I were looking for Rachel Amber, we found their hideout. We found photos of you and other girls, we found Rachel's body. It was ter. . . terrible." Max lost her words. She had begun crying. The terrible memory of finding Rachel's body had overcome her. She never wanted to see Chloe like that again. Just imagining it again was too much to handle.

Kate could hear her friend was breaking down over the phone.

"Stop Max," she said, "That's enough. I don't have to hear anymore."

Max didn't say anything. She pulled her arm into her short sleeved shirt. She pushed the sleeve up to her face, wiping at her tears.

"You saved me, then you discovered all of those awful things, after all of that, you still had to deal with the storm," Kate said, "Max I wish I could hug you right."

Max began laughing through her tears, "I wish you were here, I would hug the shit out of you right now."

They both laughed.

"Victoria said that Sean Prescott was trying to cover it up?" Kate asked.

"Yeah, him, or maybe his wife, I'm not sure," Max said, "You could be in danger Kate, anyone involved could be. That's all I know right now. I'm driving back to Arcadia Bay, with Chloe, and some friends. I'm going to figure it out, just like I did with Rachel Amber's disappearance."

"That's scary Max, but I know you can do it," Kate said, "Want do you want me to do? I want to help."

"Nothing yet," Max said, "Stay safe for now."

"I'm making a three-way text chat," Kate said, "You, me, and Victoria. I want you to keep me up to date, both of you."

"That's a really good idea," Max said.

"This whole thing is so nuts Max. I know that Victoria said the cops were crooked, you even said so on Tuesday morning, but, like, can't we just talk to the FBI or something, try and go above their heads?"

"We might actually do that," Max said, "It would take time though, and evidence. We don't have a lot of either right now, we need to act fast, I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Okay," Kate said, "I guess that makes sense."

Both girls were at a loss for further words.

"Max please keep me in the loop," Kate said.

"I will," Max said, "Text me right after I hang up, I want to make sure this new phone is working right."

"I will," Kate said, "Good-bye Max."

"Good-bye Kate."

Max ended the phone call.

_Time,_ she thought, _There's never enough fucking time._

There was a loud crunching noise.

"Max, do you know shinigami love apples?"

Max turned towards the voice.

It was Mark Jefferson. He was leaning against the side of the Impala, loudly crunching on a large apple he had taken from the tree. He threw the piece of fruit to the ground. "Gross," he said, "It's filled with worms. Kind of like how Rachel's body must be by now."

The image was gross. Max recalled digging up the body. It had been buried for months, soaking in rain water. The putrid smell came back to her. She felt like vomiting.

"What do you want?" Max asked.

"I could ask you the same question," he said, "You seem so torn right now."

"I'm not. Fernando just brought out some old feelings," she said, "That's all."

"I know," he said, "I've been digging through your mind. You had a very serious thing for him. Who else have we been masturbating to Max? Who else is in your spank bank?"

He brought his hand to his chin, stroking his beard. "That doesn't sound right,” he said, “What is it called for a woman? Not saying you can't spank a vagina, but, that's an entirely different topic."

"A flick clique?" she suggested, "The small group of individuals you flick your bean to?"

"Clever," he said, "I like that."

Jefferson reached behind his back. He produced a vanilla folder seemingly from nowhere. There were bold red letters stamped on the front: THINGS MAX CAULFIELD HAS BEEN FLICKING HER BEAN TO. He held the folder up so Max could read the title.

"Should we review?" he asked.

Max felt embarrassment welling up in her cheeks. _Do I have a choice?_ She thought.

"Not really," Jefferson answered. He opened the folder and began browsing.

"Let's just address the elephant in the room," he said. He winced, "This is awkward, but, I'm definitely in this file. It seems like you were pretty hot for teacher. You don't want to, uh, talk about that in detail or anything right?”

"No," she said. “I don't.”

"Good," he said, "That could of gotten totally weird. Moving on. There are a couple celebrities we could breeze past. Keira Knightley, Charlie Hunnam, Kristen Stewart those seem pretty standard. A pleasant mix of boys and girls, I like that.”

He continued, “Speaking of Kristens. Your friend Kristen Giroux seems to have snuck her way onto this list. You're a lesbian with a best friend fetish? Seems a bit cliché Max, even for you.”

She bit her lip. “It was a one time thing, with Kristen,” Max said, “I'll explain. It's pretty dirty though.”

“I'm dead and stuck in your head,” he said, “I'm not doing anything else and I love dirty stories. Go for it.”

She began, “We were going to a concert. I don't remember who, it was a while ago, I think I had just turned 16. We took a bus. I remember the bus being so crowded, standing room only. We got kind of smashed against the wall, well, I was smashed against the wall, Kristen was smashed against me. At first it was fine, just cramped. After a while it got warm, we ended up covered in sweat. We were breathing on each other so I turned around to face the other way. More people came on the bus, at this point everyone was pretty much touching. Her breasts, they were pressing against my back. The hypnotic rumbling of the bus, her tits brushing against the skin of my back, forwards and backwards, it was too much for me to handle.”

Jefferson had edged closer to the girl, intrigued by the story. “Go on,” he said. He knew there was more to it.

She continued, “Her words. I'll never forget them, they were so dirty, at least, they were to me. She said, _I'm sorry my tits keep rubbing on you, My nipples are getting kind of hard, it's really embarrassing._ I could feel them, her hard nipples, scraping against my back. I couldn't stand it anymore; I did something dirty. I had my messenger bag, I was able to switch shoulders, so no one else on the bus could see what I was doing. I slipped my right hand into my pants. I began rubbing my clit. I came, right there, on a crowded bus.” Max laughed, thinking back on her actions, “It was crazy actually, I'm surprised I didn't get caught. It's like, I lost my mind for a moment. I was caught up in the pleasure,the bus, her breasts. I just wanted relief. I came really quickly, in like, 30 seconds. It was over.”

“I probably chose the wrong girl for that whole innocence to corruption thing,” Jefferson sighed. He shook his head, pointing to another open page in the folder, “It says right here you massaged one out thinking about a threesome with the president and the first lady. Really Max? The Obamas?”

Max laughed hard. She hadn't thought about that in years. “I was really hyped for the election okay? Don't give me shit for that. That's probably one of the best three ways you can have, all that power. It's also pretty funny to think about.”

“How about a threesome with Fernando and Chloe?” He asked. He smiled at her immediate discomfort. Both of them knew the scenario was getting uncomfortably close to a reality.

“That would be. . . unbelievable,” she said, “and scary.”

Her cell phone began vibrating in her lap. It was a group text from Kate.

**Kate:** I set this up so the three of us could talk. Text back when you receive this.

**Victoria:** That's a really good idea Kate.

“You three are like a 'me' support group,” Jefferson said, “It's so cute.” Jefferson's eyes narrowed, “You know, Victoria is in this folder Max.”

Max turned beet red. Images of her Victoria fantasy playing out in her head. She tried to ignore them. She began typing into her phone.

**Max:** We need to stay on the same page during this thing. A miscommunication at this point can be dangerous.

**Victoria:** Max is right. That is something I don't like hearing myself say.

**Max:** We both know you love me. You also didn't say anything, you typed it.

**Kate:** LOL

Max knew her rival's eyebrows were furrowing, wherever she was at.

“Max,” a voice called out.

Max looked up from her phone. Chloe was standing in the parking lot. Max looked to her side, Jefferson was gone.

“What are you doing dude?” Chloe asked. He arms were raised incredulously, “We can see you from the window, it's been like ten minutes since your call ended. Fernando is worried he broke you by flirting with you too much.”

Max felt stupid. She looked at Chloe and sighed. “He kind of did, if I'm being honest.”

Chloe stepped forward, coming into Max's proximity. She ran her hands along the top of Max's thighs. “I know,” she said, “He got under my skin a little bit too.”

Max spoke,“You told me that story about losing your virginity, to a boy. Fernando was turning me on. I used to think about him that way, a lot. I was a little confused. Kristen said some things, I was just thinking about the past.”

The disparity in their life experiences was apparent to Chloe for the first time.

“All of this is really fast for you,” Chloe said, “I just realized.”

She continued, “I had time to process things like this. We've only been back together for a week.”

“Fuck all that,” Max said, “Kiss me again.”

“What?” Chloe asked, “You want me to prove I'm still yours?”

“No, I need to know if I'm still yours.” Max said.

Chloe hooked her hands under Max's knees. She pulled the short girl to the edge of the trunk. Max spread her legs, allowing her partner between them. Chloe pressed herself against the smaller girl.

Max leaned forward, bringing her lips to Chloe's. The kiss was lavish, aggressive. Chloe pulled her lips away from Max's. She brought her mouth down to the girl's neck. Max began quivering as Chloe's tongue crept across her skin. Chloe squeezed Max's earlobe between her lips.

“I know what you want,” Chloe whispered, “You want to know, can I turn you on?”

Max's heart was beating heavily. Her hands were shaking, almost uncontrollably, she pushed them up underneath Chloe's shirt. She could feel the smooth, flat skin of the fit girl's stomach. Max pressed herself harder against Chloe's torso. She pushed her hands around Chloe's body, letting them fall to her partner's buttocks. Max squeezed. They were firm, tight.

Chloe's skin was flush now. She reached up and pulled Max's hair. Max let out a gasp. Chloe kissed her, forceful. Chloe released her partner's brown hair. The aggressive kiss softened, becoming sweet, sexual. Chloe let her hands fall nicely to Max's hips. Chloe had calmed. Max continued to kiss her. The pretty freckled girl kept pushing her lips forward, repeatedly asking for more. Chloe could feel Max grinding her hips, trying to rub her pussy against something, anything.

Chloe leaned her forehead against her lover's. Both of them were breathing laboriously. She laughed. “You're definitely still mine,” She said.

“Don't stop,” Max whispered. Her body was shaking, eyes closed.

“We have to,” Chloe said.

Max opened her eyes. There were several people standing on the front porch of the diner, watching them. A pair of bikers walking by on the sidewalk began clapping. One of them brought his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. The other let out a loud cheer.

“Yeeeaah!” He cried out.

Max brought her hand to her face, embarrassed by the small audience they had attracted.

“Are you still confused after that?” Chloe asked. Chloe took off her beanie. She wiped the side of Max's neck, removing her the spittle her tongue had left behind.

Max leaned in and hugged her lover, laying her head on Chloe's chest, listening to her heart.

“No,” Max said, “I'm not.”

The people that had stopped to watch disappeared into the entrance of the building. The bikers continued to walk away.

“Let's get cleaned up,” Chloe said.

Chloe took Max's hand and helped her hop down from the trunk. They walked, holding hands, to the entrance of the diner. They were greeted at the entrance by a waitress. She had dirty blonde hair and large puffy eyes. Her name-tag read: Jessie. She looked their age.

“That was a quite a show,” Jessie said.

The two lovers looked embarrassed.

“Don't worry about it,” Jessie said, noticing their embarrassment. She put her hand on her hip, “Stuff like that happens all the time around here. If you kept going I might have had to call the cops, but you stopped at the right time.”

The diner was old, much older than the exterior of the building would have indicated. The floor was made of old wooden planks. There was a long bar with several wooden stools. There were tables in the center of a large room. The outside of the room was lined with booths. Max was reminded of an old timey saloon. She liked the location a lot.

“You're cute friend over there ordered you french fries,” Jessie said. She pointed to a booth by the front window. Kristen and Fernando were sitting together. Massive smiles spread across their face as Max looked in their direction.

“Thank you so much,” Max said, “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure,” Jessie said, “She pointed to the corner of the building. There was a black and white restroom sign sitting above a door.

Max and Chloe both headed for the bathroom.

“Um,” Jessie said.

They turned.

Jessie raised her eyebrows, unsure about how they would react to what she was about to say. “Maybe only one of you should be in the bathroom at a time?” she suggested.

“That's fair,” Chloe said, She shook her head, amused, “Go Max.”

“Sorry.” The polite little waitress said.

Chloe walked to the booth, grinning at her new friends.

“I thought I was going to have to come out and separate you two,” Kristen said.

Chloe smiled. “Max didn't want me to stop,” she said.

“I don't think anyone wanted you to stop,” Kristen said, “I was about to bust out my camera phone. Would of made bank on the sex tape.”

Chloe shook her head. Fernando laughed. She grabbed her coke and took a drink. Her eyes narrowed at Fernando. She gave him a devious smile. “Flirt with my girl again and I'll fuck you up,” she said.

“Is that a promise?” he asked.

Kristen interjected, talking to the boy, “You know how I told you you're the most Icarus motherfucker I knew?”

Fernando laughed. “I'll stop,” he said, “I'm sorry.”

Max was walking out of the bathroom. Her face was still wet, it was apparent she had washed it.

Chloe stood up and went to the bathroom. They smiled deeply at one another as they passed.

Max sat down at the booth, she pushed herself into the corner. She had a massive grin on her face. She leaned back, letting her head rest against the leather. She pushed the breath out of her lungs and into the air. She grabbed a bottle of ketchup and poured some on her plate. She began eating her fries.

“Nothing?” Kristen asked.

Max was resting her head on her hand, propped up by her elbow. “Hmm?”

“No thoughts on what just happened?” Kristen asked.

Max shook her head. “I feel great right now.” She dipped another pair of fries in the ketchup.

“You mad at me?” Fernando asked.

“Absolutely not,” she said. She slid out from her side of the booth. Max stepped to where Fernando was seated. She bent down and kissed him on the forehead, “You're great,” she said, “I'm never mad at you.” The boy blushed, not expecting the affection.

Max's phone buzzed. She checked it.

**Chloe:** I'm fingering myself right now.

Max slid back into her seat. She laughed. She began typing.

**Max:** I love you.

**Chloe:** I love you too.

“Does anyone want anything else?”

It was Jessie, the waitress. Fernando and Kristen shook their heads.

“Two ice cream sundaes, one chocolate, one butterscotch?” Max asked.

“We've got butterscotch,” Jessie reassured her.

“Score,” Max said. She looked at the waitress one more time. _She looks so familiar._

“I'll have a vanilla milkshake then,” Fernando said.

Jessie looked to Kristen. “I'm good,” Kristen said. The waitress nodded and walked off.

“The trip can wait,” Max declared, “The next 30 minutes are mine. I feel really good right now. I'm going to sit here and eat ice cream and french fries and flirt with my girlfriend. I've earned it.”

Kristen shrugged, “You do you Ms. Caulfield.”

 


	18. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 10 - Part 4

Kristen Giroux rolled her eyes. She was watching Maxine Caulfield lick butterscotch off the back of a spoon. It was suggestive, possibly obscene.

Chloe Price had a smile on her face, also witnessing the action. Her eyebrows were raised at the ends, the skepticism about her partner's behavior was cleanly visible.

Max gazed at Chloe with wide, doe-like eyes. Her mouth turned upward in a crooked smirk. She suckled the tip of the spoon, removing the last trace of butterscotch. She raised her eyebrows up and down.

Chloe snorted. She shook her head at the pretty freckled girl. "You're a really hot mess right now," she said.

Kristen was enjoying the feeling of having one side of the booth to herself. She had her legs up, sprawled out across the bench seat. Her back was pressed against the windowsill. "It's cute," she said, "She's like a kid with a new toy who can't stop playing with it."

"What's the toy?" Chloe asked

"Her sexuality," Kristen replied.

All three of them thought about it. Chloe went to take a drink of her coke.

"This spoon's your pussy," Max declared. The words were loud.

Chloe choked, coke dribbling from her mouth. Kristen snorted at first, it became laughter as she watched Chloe coughing.

Chloe got out a single word, " _Bitch._ "

Max was giggling.

"I got coke in my nose," Chloe said. Her eyes were watering.

"Sounds like a good time," Kristen quipped.

Max's laughter increased, producing a burst of snorts. Kristen was chuckling, satisfied with her remark.

"Hand me a napkin," Chloe demanded. She looked amused, despite the anger.

Max grabbed a handful of napkins from a black container, handing them over. She felt a bit guilty as Chloe began blowing her nose.

"I'm sorry," Max said. She pulled herself closer to Chloe, kissing the woman's exposed upper arm. Max laid her head down on Chloe's shoulder.

"No you're not," Chloe said. She finished cleaning up the mess. She could feel Max giggling on her arm, confirming the statement.

"I haven't gotten to do that to you in years," Max said. She closed her eyes. She was thinking about how many times she had forced Chloe to spit-take when they were young.

Chloe was staring at the face of the girl resting on her shoulder. "Yeah. It's been a while since you've turned my coca-cola into choke-a-cola," she said.

"Well, it never took much effort," Max said, "I remember you squirted chocolate milk out of your nose once. All I did was lean in and cross my eyes right when you took a gulp." She grinned, recalling the past.

"I always felt hella giddy when we hung out," Chloe said, "Dad would always buy us a bunch of junk food, half the time we were tripped out on sugar. Those are legit some of my favorite memories."

Max sighed, lost in the past, thinking about the countless days they had spent together.

Chloe caught a whiff of something. She couldn't put her finger on the smell. She reached up, pulling her beanie off with her free hand. She smelled it. Nothing. The smell was still there. It was pleasant, familiar. Her eyes fell again to Max. She craned her neck, pressing her nose into girl's hair. She inhaled deeply, pulling Max's essence into her body.

The scent was there. She tried to place it. It wasn't Max's shampoo or her deodorant. It wasn't the laundry detergent from the Caulfield home. The smell was from long ago. The image of thirteen year old Max came to her. They were parked on the couch together, sharing a blanket, playing video games. The scent was the same.

An overwhelming flood of emotions poured over Chloe. A realization came to her, _I'm with my best friend again. A_ second thought came to her, _I missed her so much._ Tears began trickling down her cheeks. They were warm, joyful.

"I wish we were millionaires," Max said. Her eyes were still closed, "I would buy this place and never leave."

Kristen sat upright in her seat. Her brow furrowed; she looked at Chloe's tears, concerned. She grabbed a clean napkin, offering it to the girl across the table.

Chloe wrapped her arm around Max's shoulder. She took the napkin with her free hand and began wiping at her cheeks. She gave Kristen a small smile, quiet and thankful. "I'm not spending my whole life in diners," she said, "I know what that life's like."

Max lifted her head, opening her eyes, she looked to Chloe. She saw her partner wiping at her eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Turns out, I'm the hot mess," Chloe said. She stared into the questioning eyes of her lover, "I didn't realize how much I missed you until now."

"We're okay," Max said. She kissed Chloe's shoulder again.

"I know," Chloe said. She leaned down and gave Max a quick kiss on the lips, "I'm still emotionally broken. It's leaking out of me a bit, that's all. I'm like the carton of milk that fell off the shelf, half-priced, no pun intended." Chloe looked to Kristen, "Sorry you have to put up with our damage."

Kristen wasn't paying attention. She was staring across the room.

Fernando Torres was sitting at the diner bar. He had a warm smirk on his face. He was talking to the waitress, Jessie. Jessie was wearing an equally inviting expression. They were sitting on stools, facing one another.

Chloe and Max both followed Kristen's gaze towards the scene. Max turned in the booth, escaping from Chloe's grip, resting on her knees. The conversation was out of reach. They watched as Fernando reached his hand out, touching Jessie's upper arm. The blonde haired girl had started laughing at something. She crossed her legs towards the boy.

Max and Chloe smiled at the image. Kristen found herself frowning.

"She's pretty cute," Chloe said, "What do you think Max?"

The question surprised Max. "What?" She asked.

"Don't act dumb," Chloe said. She rolled her eyes, "If that girl came up to you and started flirting, would you like it? Maybe you'd like to be the one flirting with her?"

"I'm interested in knowing too," Kristen said.

"Hmm," Max said. She focused on the girl at the dining bar. Jessie was about Max's height. Her dirty blonde hair was up in a ponytail. Her eyes were large, puffy, and green. Her cheekbones were tall. Max's analysis fell along the girl's body. Her neck was long.. The neckline of her uniform was open. The muscles connecting her shoulders and her neck protruded. _I bet she does yoga,_ Max thought. Her eyes fell to the girl's breasts. They were well-proportioned, possibly a bit large for how fit the she looked. The waitress uniform was pushing them simultaneously upwards and forward.

"I like her tits," Max said.

Chloe snickered. It wasn't the answer she had expected. "I'm with you on that," She said, "They look pretty great in that outfit."

"Both of you are boy-brained idiots," Kristen said.

Chloe smiled. "I used to tell myself to think like a man," She said, "I can't help it."

Fernando pulled out his phone. He was showing her something on the small screen. Her eyebrows raised, seemingly impressed with something.

"She's like a young Heather Graham," Max suggested.

Kristen sighed. "He loves blonde hair," she said, "I knew he was going to do this shit the second I saw her."

Chloe detected a hint of anger coming from the black haired girl. "You don't think they'd make a cute couple?" she asked.

Max turned around, pushing her legs back under the table.

Kristen refused to look at either the duo at the bar or Chloe. "Yeah," she said. The word was curt, hanging in the air by itself. She followed it with, "I guess." Kristen reached into her purse and produced a ten dollar bill. She dropped it on the table. "When you two get your shit together I'll be waiting outside," she said, "I'm tired of this soap opera."

Kristen stood and walked away from the table.

"Kristen. . ." Max called. It didn't stop the girl from leaving.

Chloe looked at Max. She brought her thumbnail up to her mouth biting at it. "I didn't mean to make her mad," she said.

"It's okay," Max said, "She gets angry when she's upset."

"Should I talk to her?" Chloe asked.

"No," Max said, "Let her be. She might bite your head off if you went outside right now."

"Sounds like she regrets some stuff," Chloe said.

"It was like this before," Max said, "Their relationship is complicated, much more complicated than ours, even with all the time travel and trauma."

"It seems unfair, to be jealous," Chloe said, "She made her bed, she can lie in it."

"Most choices aren't black and white," Max said, "You know that just as much as I do."

Both of their faces became grave.

Chloe sighed. "You're right," she said. She began rubbing Max's forearm.

After a moment Max smiled. She reached up and ran her hand through Chloe's messy blue hair. "Tell me something," Max said, "Did you really finger yourself in the bathroom?"

Chloe laughed, relieved by the change in topic. "Hell yeah I did," she said, "I'm not going to spend all day sore. You should too, before we leave."

Max bit her bottom lip. "I am pretty sore right now," she said, "Is it clean in there?"

Chloe shrugged. "It's clean enough," she said.

"If you wanna wait we'll probably take turns locking lips later tonight," Chloe said. She had a big a smile on her face, "Get it?"

Max laughed. "I'm really glad we talk like this," she said.

"Like what?" Chloe asked.

"I dunno," Max said, "Dirty. Honest, I guess."

"It's surprising," Chloe said, "You're really dirty. I mean, we used to say dirty shit back in the day, but, not like this."

"Is it too much?" Max asked. She turned red, feeling like she had been called out.

"No," Chloe said, "like you said, it's honest. It's you. I love it."

"It's funny," Max said, "I feel like we're on our first date right now, but I've already agreed to marry you."

"I know," Chloe said, "We did everything bass ackwards."

Max pushed herself up in her seat, looking around the restaurant. It was mostly empty. Fernando was still flirting with the waitress. Max sank back down. "Kiss me," she said, "Every good date ends with a kiss."

"I love it, when you tell me to kiss you," Chloe said. She leaned in. She slipped her tongue into Max's mouth. It was a deeper kiss than Max was accustomed to. Chloe could taste a hint of butterscotch left behind on the girl's lips.

Fernando arrived at the table. "Are you two ready to go?" he asked. He noticed their lips locked togehter, "I guess not..."

Chloe pulled her lips away.

"Yeah," Max said. She caught her breath, "We should probably go."

Chloe noticed the bill in Fernando's hands. She pulled a twenty dollar bill from her pocket and handed it to him. "Our portion. Tip her with what's left," She said.

"That's a big tip," He said.

She raised her eyebrows at him, "Maybe after you give her that you can slip her your own big tip."

"That wouldn't be unpleasant," he said, smiling, "We're stopping here on the return trip, I promise you that." Fernando looked around, "Kristen's in the bathroom?"

"She's outside," Max said, "She wanted air." She pointed to the ten dollar bill sitting on the table.

"Cool," Fernando said. He grabbed the money and walked towards the register.

"You're a pretty good wing man," Max joked.

"He needs the help," Chloe shrugged. She stood, stuffing her hat into her back pocket. She offered Max a hand. Max took it, pulling herself from the booth.

"You really wouldn't buy this place?" Max asked.

Chloe sighed. "If it meant we didn't have to return to Arcadia Bay. . . I'd buy it in a heartbeat."

Max and Chloe made their way to the register area. Fernando and Jessie were still talking.

"I'd love to see some of your paintings," Jessie said, "My cousin's an artist of sorts, she draws." She noticed Max and Chloe walk up to the counter. "Oh, hi!" she said, "I guess you guys are going?"

"What was your name?" Max asked, "You're so nice."

"Jessica," she answered, "Call me Jessie."

"Sorry we made out in the parking lot," Chloe said.

Jessie laughed. "It's fine," She said, "You might of made some of the baby boomers uncomfortable. I didn't give a shit."

"I'm Chloe."

"My name's Max."

"Max and Chloe," she said, "Nice to meet the both of you. Something tells me we'll see each other again." Her eyes wandered from the couple back to Fernando.

"Definitely," Chloe said, chuckling.

"We'll meet you at the car?" Max asked, directing the question to Fernando.

"Five minutes," He said.

"No rush," Max said.

Jessica was blushing behind the counter.

Max and Chloe walked out of the _The Blue Catfish_. Kristen was sitting on the trunk of the car. They began walking to her.

"You sure you didn't want to use the bathroom?" Chloe asked. Her smirk was impish.

Max imagined the bathroom, public and dirty. _I don't even like peeing in public_ , she thought. She imagined Mark Jefferson pulling himself underneath the stall door before she could reach orgasm. ' _Don't mind me Max! I'm just observing!'_ The idea was funny, scary, and depressing. She wondered, _Can I actually masturbate alone?_

Max inhaled, turning to her partner. "No," She said, "I'll let you handle it tonight. My vagina is in your hands."

"My hands will be in your vagina is more like it," Chloe joked.

Max snickered at the exciting thought.

Kristen had overheard some portion of the conversation.

"You know Max," She said, "You used to be this sweet little 16 year old girl that would visit our shop and talk about photography stuff. What the hell happened?"

Max walked up to the back of the car. She put her arms on her hips, smiling at her friend. "Blame her," Max said. She raised her thumb at the blue haired girl next to her, "She corrupted me."

Kristen's eyes fell to the ground. "I'm sorry I walked out," she said, aiming an apology at both of them, "The deer rattled me. I didn't sleep much last night; I kept thinking about the vision. Those aren't great excuses."

"Sure they are," Max said, "Those things are awful. Neither of us are going to hold it against you if you're a little edgy."

Kristen hopped down from the hood of the trunk. Max stepped forward and hugged her.

"Here," Kristen said, "You should read this." The hug ended. Kristen brought her phone up, handing it to Max. Max looked at the phone. It was a news article. Max began to read.

Chloe stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Kristen. The curvy girl was caught off guard. She resisted the hug before giving in and squeezing the tall girl's torso.

"Oh my god," Kristen said, "You're so sweet." She patted Chloe's back. Chloe pulled away.

Chloe slipped her hands into her pockets, thumbs out. "I didn't mean anything," she said, "I had no idea I was picking at a scab when I said they'd make a cute couple."

Kristen leaned back against the car, crossing her arms. "I didn't know you would be either," She said, "You're all good kitten. You can't be expected to know what I feel when I don't even know what I feel myself."

Max spoke, "It says here that the NOAA is requesting emrgency funds from FEMA. They need the money to construct a detection system for 'Lunar Vortex-like natural disasters'."

Kristen turned her head. "That has to be relevant right?" she asked.

"Yes," Max said, "I'm still reading, give me a second."

"Walker Williams?" Chloe asked.

"Let me read," Max demanded. She continued to thumb down the article.

"Who's that?" Kristen asked.

Chloe explained, "He's with the NOAA. You saw the CNN press conference after the storm?"

"The whole world did," Kristen said, "The blonde scientist guy is Walker Williams?"

"Yeah," Chloe said, We talked to him yesterday, after we left your store. We tried to tell him about the storm, the time travel. I was certain he didn't believe us, maybe I was wrong."

"There is a lot of politics here," Max said, "It seems like Walker is trying to get the democrats to pass an emergency appropriations bill to fund the project. The republicans are blocking the measure in congress, something to do with a large climate change denial lobby. Walker put out a statement a few hours ago. He's asking for private corporations to step up and help fund the detection system for 'the greater good.'"

"This is good news right?" Chloe asked, "It means he believed us. It sounds like he's doing his best to do something."

"Read the last part Max," Kristen said.

"I just did," Max said, "One company has already stepped forward and pledged to fund the entire project."

"Who?" Chloe asked.

Max looked up from the phone. Her eyes were wide. " _The Prescott Foundation,"_ She said.

A shiver traveled down Chloe's back. She frowned. Her forehead bunched, upset.

"I know," Max said. She had an equally upset look on her face, "Whatever this means, it can't be good. I'm sending this article to David and Victoria." Max sent a link to her new phone number. She resent the link to Victoria's phone. She handed Kristen's phone back.

Fernando was exiting the diner. Jessie stepped out of the diner, hanging on the door. She waved goodbye to him. He nodded at her, grinning brightly.

"You don't think we should tell Fernando at this point?" Kristen asked, "Things are getting spooky, especially after that deer incident."

"When we get to Arcadia we'll make sure everyone is on the same page," Max said, "I can't tell everyone about the time travel. It's too crazy and unbelievable, hell Kristen, I bet you don't even believe that part yet."

"I might be starting to," She said, "But you're right, it still sounds farfetched."

"He'll believe the more sane version of the story," Max said.

"Victoria, David, and Kate are already on that page right?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah," Max said, "The three of us are the only ones who know about the vision. We might have to do a balancing act about what everyone knows. Are you two up for it?"

Kristen nodded.

"Of course," Chloe said.

Fernando finally came into earshot.

"I'm sorry I took so long," Fernando said.  
"No biggie," Kristen said, "Tell me you at least got some digits for your time."

Fernando smiled, "I did. She even let me take a selfie with her for my contacts list."

"That's cute," Kristen said.

"She's cute," he said.

Chloe and Kristen both giggled at his enthusiam.

"That's a good idea," Max said. Her friends watched as she opened her car door. She grabbed her camera from the messenger bag. She handed the camera to Fernando. "Take a photo of us," she said.

"Sure," he said.

"Chloe, stand there" Max said. She pointed to the trunk of the car, the center of the space. Chloe leaned back against the Impala. Max climbed up on the trunk, sitting on Chloe's left, letting her feet rest on the bumper. "Kristen, climb up on the other side," she said.

"This is going to be a good photo," Kristen said. She climbed up on the trunk, sitting to Chloe's right, trying to mirror Max's pose.

The three of them squished together. Chloe put her hands in her pockets, trying to look cool. Max and Kristen both locked arms with the tall girl. Max pulled her engagement necklace from her shirt. Chloe did the same, exposing her own necklace. She returned her hands to her pockets.

Max leaned over and kissed Chloe on the neck. She then rested her head on Chloe's shoulder. Fernando knew this was the shot. He raised the camera. Kristen lifted her right hand in the air, extending her middle finger towards the camera. All of them smiled. Fernando snapped the photo, capturing the moment in time.

He walked the camera back to Max. She took it. She pulled the instant photograph from the camera and shook it.

"You know that doesn't do anything right?" Kristen asked.

"I know," Max said, "You're supposed to do it for luck. It won't ruin this type of film."

The photograph turned out great. Max blew on it. She passed it around. Kristen and Chloe smiled.

"Good shot," Max said, complimenting Fernando.

"You framed it," he said, shrugging.

"Let's go," Chloe said, "We've got to get to Arcadia Bay and we're burning daylight."

All of them piled into the car. Max grabbed a black marker from her messenger bag. She labled the back of the photo with the date, time, and location. _The Blue Catfish_. She wrote a word on the back: _Visionaries ._ She showed the label to Chloe.

"You're way too clever," Chloe said.

Max tucked the photo into the little pink pencil case. Fernando backed out of the parking space. He pulled the car back onto the road. They were on their way to Arcadia Bay.

 

\---------------------------

 

Kate Marsh was sitting at a lavish dining room table. The Marsh house had always been decorated simply. The dining room, on the other hand, was well adorned. Golden light switches, fine china, a large oak table covered in a lacy table cloth. It was the room that housed every Marsh family thanksgiving for the last twenty years. The room was a testament to Kate's grandmother, Magdalena. To Kate the woman had been a product of time immemorial. Magdalena passed when Kate was young, too young to really know the family's matriarch or her proclivities.

Kate had just finished her last slice of bacon. Abigail Marsh was in the kitchen. Kate heard her aunt washing dishes in the other room. She stood from the table. She grabbed her plate, fork, napkin, and glass. She carried them into the kitchen.

"Katie," Abigail said. She smiled at her niece, "You enjoyed your breakfast?"

Kate put an exaggerated smile on her face. She felt the need to be nice to her aunt, especially after what her father had confessed earlier. "Your biscuits and gravy are incredible," she said, "Better than most restaraunts even. It was great. Thank you."

"That's good," Abigail said. She was forced to smile in the wake of her niece's demeanor. She spoke, "I haven't cooked for anyone in a while. I was afraid I might lose my touch. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Here, let me take your dishes."

Kate handed the dishes to her aunt. Abigail set them in the sink, letting them soak in the sudsy water. Kate balled the napkin up and tossed it into the trash can.

"Are you going to church today Katie?" Abigail asked, "Mass is at eleven"

"I, um, I'm not sure," Kate said.

Abigail stepped forward, crossing her hands neatly in front of herself. "You should come Katie," she said, "I'm going to confession today. Confession cleans the conscious. You'll feel so much better afterward."

Kate's eyes went to the ceiling. "Um," She said. She could feel the unwavering eyes of her aunt judging her. "I'm not sure. . ."

"Not today," Richard Marsh said. The man appeared in the dooway leading to the utility room. "I'm sorry Abby," He said, "I am going to have a talk with my daughter this morning. Maybe we will attend church tomorrow, after Linda arrives with the girls."

"Oh certainly," Abigail said, "That would be lovely. I'll head out and let you two talk. I like to get there early anyway, make sure I get a good seat."

Kate stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her aunt. She squeezed tight, forcing Abigail to really hug her. "We'll come with you tomorrow," she said, "I swear."

"Oh," Abigail said, "You're sweet. Bless you." She rubbed Kate's back hard. Patting her niece. Kate ended the embrace. Abigail was beaming.

Richard's features mellowed. He hadn't seen his sister genuinely smile in a long time.

"I'm off then," Abigail said. She walked towards the utility room, stopping in front of her brother. She raised a finger toward him, "You go easy on her."

Richard nodded. "Drive safe," He said, "We'll get pizza for lunch."

"Oh," Abigail said, "That sounds fun."

Abigail waved to Kate, giving the girl a look of pity. She waved back. The older woman disappeared into the utility room. Kate heard the back door open and then close. Abigail was gone.

"Thank you," Richard said, "For being so nice to your aunt."

"After what you told me," She said, "I felt awful. She shouldn't be living here. This home, it must be filled with bad memories. It isn't healthy."

"I know," He said. The man sighed, "The way she spoke just now. She expects me to beat you, maybe something worse."

"To be fair dad," Kate said, "You kind of sounded like you were going to. I'm afraid to ask what you wanted to talk to me about."

Richard laughed. "We already talked this morning," he said, "You seemed like you didn't want to go to church. I thought I'd give you an easy out."

"You're right. I don't want to go," she said, "Not yet anyway."

"Abby's right though," He said, "Confession makes me feel better too. You don't have to tomorrow if you don't want. Hell. You don't even have to do it at church. Just talking to someone. That's the real power of the confessional."

Kate crossed to the sink. "I'll probably wait until we get home," she said, "If I speak to anyone, I would rather speak to father Todd." Kate pulled on a pair of yellow rubber gloves. She intended to finish the dishes.

"Tell that to your aunt if she pressures you," he said, "She'll understand that."

"What should I do today?" Kate asked. She grabbed a scrubber and a bottle of soap. She began scrubbing at the plates sitting in the water.

"Besides those dishes," her father said, "You can do whatever you like. I would suggest grabbing a large glass of hand squeezed lemonade from the fridge, with plenty of ice of course, and sitting on the porch swing. You can watch me do yard work."

"I could help with the yard work," she suggested.

"You could, if that's what you want,' he said, "I'd almost prefer it if you didn't. It's up to you."

Richard turned, leaving the kitchen. Kate heard the back door open and close. She finshed the dishes, scrubbing each plate carefully, placing them in a clean looking drying rack. She drained the sink. She peeled the yellow gloves off, returning them to their place.

Kate took her father's advice. She grabbed a tall, narrow glass from a wooden cabinet. She opened the freezer. Ice cube trays. She popped several of the rectangular pieces of frozen water out of a tray, placing them in her glass. She opened the fridge. A large glass pitcher of lemonade was sitting on the top shelf. She poured a tall glass of lemonade. There were slices of lemon floating in the pitcher, she made sure one of them ended up in her glass.

She took a sip. She recoiled at the tartness, unused to actual lemonade. She took another sip, this time with less liquid. _That's good,_ she thought. She grabbed her purse from the sink and walked through the utility room. She exited the Marsh house, drink in hand, barefoot.

There was an old wooden deck attached to the back of the house. The day had grown unseasonably warm. The sun was out in force, falling down on the back yard and deck of the home. Kate saw the swing. She had sat in it many times, wooden and worn, hanging from chains beneath an awning. She sat, putting her legs up, stretching out. She looked out across the back yard. It was only an acre, but it was overgrown. _Abby's getting too old to manage this herself,_ Kate thought. She watched her father starting an old push mower.

Kate pulled her phone from her purse. She had received several texts during breakfast.

First she checked the group text between herself, Max, and Victoria.

 **Victoria:** Just because you kind of saved my life Max doesn't mean I have to put up with your hipster bullshit.

Kate began typing. She sent her message.

 **Kate:** Be nice. Please. You too Max.

Kate went back to her new messages. There was an exclamation point next to Dana Ward's name. Kate checked Dana's message.

 **Dana:** Sry no texts. No classes so everyone slept in.

 **Dana:** Alyssa's parents were here. They collected her things. Juliet and I talked to them. They are going to bury her in Detroit. They mentioned you by name. They wanted your address. Juliet gave it to them. I hope you don't mind. They are going to send you some of her things. Her crosses. A letter too.

 **Dana:** Mrs. Hoida just talked to them. She's crying. I can't stop crying.

Richard Marsh finally got the lawnmower to start. The dull hum of the engine filled the air.

Kate thought about the past. The first two weeks at Blackwell were hard for most of the students. Everyone came from different parts of the country, most of them from the pacific northwest, but some from far away. It was weird, leaving your old school, your old life, being with a new group of people. Of course, it was what Kate wanted. She told herself that, every day, when she woke up. She was determined to meet new people. It had not been as easy as it sounded.

Kate started an abstinence campaign. It had been a condition from her mother. Kate thought about her mother's words now. _I'll let you go to this school Katie, but you can't abandon your principles or your values. Promise me you'll do something to promote our family's values during your time there._

The campaign was the start of Kate's problems. Every poster she put up around the school was mocked and vandalized. She earned the title of 'prude' and 'zealot' without speaking to a single person about what she felt, about who she was.

She thought about meeting Alyssa. Kate was in the girl's bathroom, pulling down her own posters. Someone had drawn all over them, cocks, spraying cum. Kate was crying.

Alyssa stepped into the bathroom, maybe she had been in a stall, Kate couldn't remember.

"Why are the people here so mean?" Alyssa asked, "It doesn't make any sense."

Kate thought about what she had said, _I don't know. I don't understand it. I just wanted to make friends and talk to people._

"We could be friends," Alyssa said, "I like your cross."

_I like your crosses too. Do you believe in god?_

"No, not at all," Alyssa said, "We could still be friends anyway though."

The first person that had given Kate a chance. The first friend she had made while fully being herself. Alyssa was killed by the storm.

Kate balled her fingers up, pushing the palm of her hand against her forehead, unable to cope with the pain. She could feel the tears running down her own cheeks. She began sobbing.

 

Kate began typing into her cellphone, it was being covered in tears. She sent a message to Dana.

 **Kate:** I'm crying too. It's okay. Alyssa is with god now.

Kate's face contorted, realizing how sad what she typed really was, the finality of the statement reaching her. She covered her face with both hands and wept.

 

_\------------------------_

 

Kate took a drink of her lemonade. The shocking effects of the liquid calmed her. It had taken her a long time to stop herself from crying. Her phone had buzzed during her emotion. She looked at it again.

 **Dana:** That's a beautiful idea. Trevor is crying.

The thought of Dana's goofy boyfriend being upset was somehow comforting. Kate's thoughts turned to Blackwell's english professor.

 **Kate:** Make sure Mrs. Hoida is okay. Alyssa wanted to be a writer. They were close.

 **Dana:** Juliet is with her. I'm not sure what else to say.

Kate sighed. _Is there anything else? I guess not._ She typed.

 **Kate:** Thank you for telling me Dana. Tell me if anything else happens.

 **Dana:** ofc I will.

Kate didn't know the acronym. She googled it on her web browser. 'ofc' stood for 'of course'. _ofc it does,_ Kate thought.

Kate's phone buzzed again. She checked her messages, expecting another message from Dana. It was not a message from Dana. Kate's eyes narrowed. It was from an unknown number.

 **Unknown Number:** I'm sorry. I did something bad to you. I feel really guilty about it.

Kate stared at the message for several seconds. _Who is this?_ she thought. She typed it.

 **Kate:** Who is this?

 **Unknown Number:** I don't want to say. I kissed you. The vortex club party. I kissed you, touched your breasts, squeezed your ass. You tried to die. It's all my fault you tried to die. I feel so bad. I think I'm going to try to die.

 _What?_ Kate thought. Her eyes narrowed at the strange words. She felt panicked. She typed.

 **Kate:** Don't say that. I'm okay. It's okay that you kissed me. I'm not mad. Please don't hurt yourself. You would make me feel very bad if you hurt yourself. Please don't.

Kate stared at her phone. She waited for a response. Several minutes passed. Kate could feel her anxiety building. She could feel her heart beating in her chest. "Fucking respond," she said.

The phone finally buzzed.

 **Unknown Number:** Are you sure you're okay?

 **Kate:** I'm Ok. I'm perfectly fine. I swear.

 **Unknown Number:** Are you mad at me? For what I did?

 **Kate:** I don't even know who you are, but if it makes you feel better, I'm not mad at you, even if you touched my breasts and my ass. I try to forgive everyone.

 **Unknown Number:** I had a crush on you. I still do.

 **Kate:** Who are you? Please tell me.

 **Unknown Number:** I have to go. I'll text you more tomorrow. _I Promise._

 **Kate:** Who are you? What's your name?

 **Kate:** Text me back. Please don't hurt yourself.

 _They had a crush on me?_ Kate thought. Kate looked at the number. She tried calling it. The phone rang several times. It refused to go to voice mail.

Kate made a new contact. She labled it ' _Admirer'_.

"You okay Katie?"

It was Richard Marsh he was calling from the long driveway.

"Yeah dad," Kate yelled back to him.

"I could use your help for a second," Richard yelled.

"Okay Dad," Kate yelled. She checked the time. It was almost noon already.

Kate stared at her phone, looking over the series of strange texts a second time. She imagined the guilt of the boy on the other side of the phone. _I hope I can explain to him what happened,_ Kate thought. She stood from the swing. She walked into the utility room, looking for her shoes.

 


	19. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 11 - Part 1

**I'm sorry this is so short. I wanted to get something out. I've been distracted by some work stuff recently. I'll probably be writing a ton this weekend so you might get something a bit longer Sunday or Monday. Thank you for sticking with me this long if you are still reading this. It means a lot.**

 

Max was comfortable. Her head was resting on a pillow. The up and down of the car cruising along the road was hypnotic. Her eyes were tired. She recognized the outlines of both Fernando and Kristen in the front seat. She was in someone's lap. A hand was rubbing her forearm.

Max sighed at the touch. It was Chloe. She felt Chloe's hand tapping her arm.

"We're here," Chloe said.

Max felt a knot form in her stomach. It was instant, like a hard punch you didn't know was coming. She rose. The green and white road sign read _Arcardia Bay._ Kristen had a piece of paper in her hands, instructions. She began reading them to Fernando. He passed the _Arcadia Bay_ exit. He pulled off the small coastal highway a few miles later. _Sunny-Vale Road._ It would take them directly to the _Woodside Apartments_ complex.

Fernando rolled the windows down. The breeze filled the car, blowing the companions hair wildly about. The road ran through the woods. Max inhaled deeply. She could smell the ocean, it was there, hidden somewhere past a vast swath of trees in front of her. She turned to Chloe. Her partner had a sad look on her face.

"It smells like home," Chloe said.

Max reached her hand out, cupping Chloe's in her own. "I know," she said.

The drive was easy. There were a few downed trees. Fernando pulled the car around them. Eventually the purity of the woods gave way to a series of scattered farms and rural homes. A sign appeared on the side of the road. It showed an idyllic scene of a lighthouse sitting over a bay. The name of the town was in large capitalized letters. ARCADIA BAY. There were smaller letters, cursive. The complete sloagan was as follows: _Welcome to_ ARCADIA BAY. _Enjoy your day!_

They arrived at the _Woodside Apartments._

Fernando pulled into the complex. "What's the apartment number?" he asked.

Kristen looked at the piece of paper Max had given her. "Block B," She said, "Apartment seven."

It was easy to find. The car pulled into the parking space directly in front of apartment B7. Fernando, Kristen, Chloe, and Max all exited the vehicle.

"We made this trip two days ago," Chloe said. She pushed her arms toward the sky, letting out a long and obnoxious groan, "It felt way longer this time."

"We didn't stop every twenty minutes on Saturday," Max said. She yawned.

"This place looks empty," Fernando said. He was looking around the complex. The apartments were laid out in rows, back to back with other apartments. The buildings were covered with brown siding, roofed with black shingles, small abodes. There were very few cars in the parking lot. One car was covered with a bright blue tarp. Some of the windows were boarded up.

"I think people are afraid," Max said, "No one can explain the storm, not even the government. They're afraid another one could come. They left out of fear I guess?" She slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and closed her door.

"They might've had the right idea," Kristen said. There was something ominous about the emptiness. Kristen shuddered, "I hope the whole town isn't like this."

Chloe sighed. "Let's go," She said.

They made their way to the apartment labled B7. They looked at one another, unsure of who should knock. Chloe stepped forward and rapped her knuckles against the auburn colored portal.

They waited with baited breath.

The door opened. It was David Madsen.

"Come in," He said, "Quickly." He ushered them into the apartment building.

"The car is yours?" David asked, looking toward Fernando.

"Yeah," Fernando nodded. The man's intensity was unnerving.

"Come with me," David said. David had a large blue tarp in his hands. He walked out the front door.

Fernando look at Max and Chloe, puzzled, wondering if he should obey the man. Max nodded, easing his noticeable concern. Fernando followed after him.

"Oh. It's so good to see you Chloe," Chloe called out sarcastically, "I'm so glad the storm didn't kill you."

Max closed the door. "Stop," She said.

"Fine," Chloe said. She crossed her arms.

Max turned, taking in the apartment. It was Jim Gate's kitchen. The curtains were drawn. The room was being illuminated by a light fixture above. It was stained yellow. The room smelled of cigarettes.

"That's your stepfather?" Kristen asked. She stepped towards the sink, spreading out.

"Yep," Chloe nodded.

Victoria Chase stepped out of the living room and into the kitchen. She stared at Max for several moments.

Max stared back. After a few moments the corners of her mouth turned upward. She beamed..

A similar grin started to spread over Victoria's face. It suddenly became a scowl, her brow furrowing."What took you so long?" she asked, "Get lost looking at used clothes?"

Max rolled her eyes. "You're usually wittier than that," she said, "I'm disappointed."

The wicked grin returned to Victoria's face. "Old habits die hard," She said. She suddenly looked serious. "Max, you saved me..."

The door opened, interrupting Victoria's words. David and Fernando stepped into the apartment.

"I'm sorry," David was saying, "It's just a precaution."

The impala was wrapped in a blue tarp.

"Hey," Fernando said, "I'm not even sure what we're being precautious about, but I get it man." He extended his hand, " I'm Fernando."

David closed the door. He took the handshake. "David Madsen," he said. The greeting was firm from both men. He nodded his head, evaluating the boy, "Good to meet you."

Fernando nodded. He turned, walking to the sink. He stood elbow to shoulder with Kristen.

Chloe stepped forward, arms crossed. David looked at her. His eyes fell to the floor.

"I failed you," He said, "As a stepfather."

The gravity of the words sank in. They were all quiet.

Chloe's look of agitation melted away, replaced by sadness. Max went to her side, touching her shoulder.

"Maybe you did," Chloe said,"Maybe I didn't give you chance, I don't know. I regret some things."

"No," David said. He looked her in the eye, "I'm the adult. I'm supposed to know and do better. I was supposed to treat you like my own daughter."

"Please don't do this right now," Chloe said. She couldn't look at him. She looked to the left, towards the door, avoiding his guilty eyes. She was trying to fight her tears, one managed to escape, falling down her right cheek. Chloe felt her torso being squeeze. Max had embraced her, tight, comforting. "I'm not angry anymore," Chloe said, "I don't want to talk about the past, things are so different now, even if it's only been a few days."

David looked around the room, looking at each of the young people. "I'm the reason all of you are in danger. I didn't do my job right," he said, "I failed all you kids. Kate Marsh too."

Victoria strode across the room. She put her hand on the man's shoulder. Her eyes were determined, fiery. "You saved my life," She said, "You didn't just save me from a body bag, David. You saved me from Corn, Sean, that man on the roof. You didn't fail me."

He gave her a weak smile. "You were the one that saved me on that roof," He said, "Don't kid yourself."

She looked embarrassed at the subtle praise.

"You didn't fail me either," Max said. She released Chloe. She stepped forward and put her hand on David's chest,"You saved me. You don't even know it, but you saved my life."

"How?" David asked. He looked puzzled.

Max shook her head. Her eyes were watering, the tears hadn't fallen yet. "I can't explain it. I just want you to know, _you saved me_." Her last words had come out quivering. The memory of David in the Dark Room was powerful. Another life, a different past, he had saved her from Jefferson's needle.

Chloe went to wrap her arms around Max. Victoria was quicker. The tall blonde girl wrapped her arms around the smaller freckled girl. It was unexpected. Max tensed, unprepared for the sudden embrace.

"And _you_ saved _me,_ " Victoria said, "Kate too."

Max leaned into the embrace. She wrapped her arms tight around Victoria's waist. She pushed her head past the tall girl's shoulder. The sides of their heads touched, bumping ears.

Chloe looked uncomfortable. Kristen and Fernando eyed one another, both feeling equally awkward about the entire conversation, happy to remain silent. David could see Chloe's discomfort.

The hug ended after a moment. Victoria took a step back, embarassed.

"Thank you Max," She said, "You helped me after I gave you so much shit."

Max squeezed Victoria's arm. "You're okay."

Her gaze went from Victoria to Chloe. She smiled. Chloe smiled back.

"We're all okay," Max said, raising her voice. She took a step back, addressing everyone, "Everyone in this room is okay. Maybe we haven't had the best pasts. Maybe we've made mistakes, have regrets, but, we're here now, together. We made it through the storm. We survived The Dark Room. Maybe we're worried, about what's going to happen to us in the future. Right now though, we're okay. If we move forward together, learn from our mistakes, and help one another, we'll continue to be okay. I know it."

They were all quiet, contemplating the words.

Fernando raised his hand.

"Just talk," Kristen said. She nudged his ribs with her elbow, "Dummy."

"Ouch," he said, "I would just like to state, for the record, I have no idea what's going on."

Max laughed, "We'll explain everything."

 


	20. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 11 - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long folks. I had the worst writers cramp ever. The ideas are flowing now though.

            Max Caulfield was staring at a rather considerable piece of cardboard. The object was resting against the sink. It was aged. It was apparent the item had been dampened and dried numerous times during its existence. There was an illustration on the sixteen square feet of material. The drawing portrayed two girls clasping hands, skittering along a beach, surrounded by flora and fauna. The girls were elated. The sun was setting. A luminous rainbow crossed sky. Max beamed at the image.

            Chloe Price was standing at the sink, next to Max. She was also examining the cardboard. Max glanced at her partner and grinned.

            Chloe raised her palm to her face in embarrassment. She leaned down to Max's ear. "We were so gay," She whispered, "I’m shocked no one figured it out sooner, including us."

            Victoria Chase stepped up to the cardboard. She scrutinized the illustration. "Who the hell are these dykes anyway?" She asked.

            Max and Chloe erupted into laughter. Victoria's eyes widened. She gave them a crooked look from the corner of her eye.

            "Don't worry about it Victoria," Max said. She waved her hand, dismissing the offended look on the girl's face.

            Victoria glared at them, unable to determine if she was the butt of some inside joke or not. She shook the feeling. She had several pieces of paper in hand. She began fastening the papers to the cardboard, securing them with thumb tacks. Max noticed the black lettering at the top of each page: INCIDENT REPORT. Max turned from the cardboard.

            Kristen Giroux was standing at the window, on the far side of the room. She opened it as far as it would allow. "It's hot in here." she said.

            Fernando Torres and David Madsen were sitting at the kitchen table. Kristen walked from the window back towards where she had been sitting, next to them.

            David rose to his feet before she could sit. He offered her a handshake. "What was your name again miss?"

            "Kristen," She said. She reached out, accepting the gesture. She spoke, "Max and Chloe were telling us about you. David, correct?"

            David smiled. "Yes ma'am," he said, "David Madsen. It's nice to meet you."

            Kristen nodded, returning the grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Madsen," she said. She reached up and pushed her glasses up on her nose, "Your mustache is very cool."

            David beamed.

            Max giggled at the exchange she was witnessing.

            "He cuts it like that on purpose," Chloe said, strolling into the conversation, "It's not even remotely ironic."

            David squinted at his stepdaughter.

            "It's a retro look," Max suggested.

            "It's vintage," Fernando said, "That's why Kristen likes it."

            Max snorted.

            "It's true," Kristen said.

            David was unsure if the young people were complementing his mustache or not.

            "Kristen owns a vintage clothing store," Max explained.

            Chloe caught Victoria in her peripheral vision. The blonde girl rifled through a drawer, fetching a pack of cigarettes and a little silver lighter. She stuffed them into the front pocket of her jeans.

            Kristen sat at the table. "I only partially own it," She said, "I'm the manager. It's in the heart of Fremont. _Pacific Vintage._ "

            Victoria snickered, finally inserting herself into the discussion. "Fremont," she said. Her words were filled with disdain, "Hipster heaven. Now I know why you and Max are friends."

            Kristen smirked. "And who are you again?" she asked.

            "Victoria Chase," She answered, "Maybe you've heard of _The Chase Space_? I mean you are from Seattle right?"

            "There are a lot of places in Seattle," Kristen shrugged, "What is it?"

            "An art gallery, photography too, one of Seattle's best," Victoria said, "It's downtown."

            "Oh," Kristen said, "I probably haven't been there then. The downtown is where art goes to die. Everyone knows that. The real artists and photographers don't even submit to places like that. Sorry."

            The room was tense, the spotlight falling to Victoria. Her face turned red. She was quiet.

            Max almost spoke. She was interrupted.

            "AHH-CHOO," Fernando sneezed. It was loud, jarring. The attention of the room was diverted to the powerful noise. "Sorry," he apologized, looking sheepish.

            There was a box of tissues on a short metal filing cabinet. He grabbed a couple, clearing his nose. He blew liberally, almost obnoxiously. "City boy," he said, "I'm not used to the air out here yet."

            Victoria looked relieved. She chuckled. "You get used to it," She said, "My allergies were bad for the first few days I was out here."

            "Me too," Max said.

            "Yeah me too," Chloe said idly, not really paying attention.

            David cleared his throat. "We need to focus here."

            "David's right," Max said, "I guess we should start by bringing Fernando up to speed?"

            "I want to hear all of it again," Kristen said. There was a map of Arcadia Bay sprawled out across the table. She let her eyes fall to it.

            "You told Kristen but not me Max?" Fernando asked. He looked up from his seat towards Max, locking eyes with her.

            Max stepped forward and placed her hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing. "I'm telling you now," she said, "You wouldn't have believed me. You still might not."

            Fernando's smile was weak.

            "Where do we start?" Max asked, turning to David, curious what the man would say.

            "Rachel Amber," David said.

            Victoria sighed. "I'm going to step outside for a bit," She said, "I can't talk about this again. I went through it with Kate this morning."

            "Me too," Chloe said, "Not with Kate, but I've been living this shit for the past week now, I'm burnt out."

            Chloe started to step away from the table. Max stepped forward, touching her hip, halting her progress.

             Chloe could see Max's concern.

            "I'm okay," Chloe said.

            "It's not a good idea for you two to be outside right now," David said.

            "We won't even leave the stoop," Victoria said.

            "We'll be ninjas," Chloe said.

            David looked at them, considering the dangers.

            "Fine," he said, "Don't wander around."

            "We're not five years old David," Chloe said.

            The man's brow furrowed in discontent.

            Victoria opened the door and stepped out. Chloe followed, closing the door behind herself.

            Max turned to David and her friends. "We'll start with Rachel Amber's disappearance. . ."

           

           

            ---------------------------

           

            "You followed me out here for a reason," Victoria said. She stared as Chloe closed the door, "What do you want?"

            Chloe's smile was sheepish. "Give me a cigarette and I won't fuck with you," She said.

            "I'm pretty sure you'd end up on the losing end of that exchange," Victoria retorted. She reached into her jean pocket and produced the cigarettes and lighter. She popped a cigarette from the pack and handed it to Chloe, "Here, I'm tired of being the only smoker anyway."

            "Thanks. . ." Chloe said. The word came pensively.

            Victoria let out a long breath. ". . .Yeah," She said. She brought her own cigarette to her lips and lit it. She passed the lighter to Chloe.

            Chloe turned the small metal object over in her hands, examining the engraving. “Vietnam," she said, "I think." Chloe flicked twice, igniting the flame. She burned the end of her cigarette, inhaling.

            "There's a man named Jim," Victoria said, "He's old and sweet. This is his apartment. You'll meet him tonight. I want to ask him about that lighter." She sat down on the stoop of the apartment.

            Chloe sat down next to her, handing the lighter back. She exhaled smoke into the open air. Victoria did the same. Both torrents of smoke congealed, forming a singular cloud.

            Victoria's cell phone beeped, buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket and thumbed it.

            "It's Katie," she said.

            "Is something wrong?" Chloe asked, "Should I tell Max?"

            "Max got the text too," Victoria responded, "Kate is asking for the vortex club video."

            Victoria began typing into her phone.

            "You're a real piece of shit," Chloe said, "You know that right?"

            "I know," Victoria said, staying focused on the phone. She sent a message.

            **Victoria:** I erased every copy of the video I could. It wasn't that viral. Why do you need to see it?

            **Kate:** I need to know who kissed me at that party. Please. If you can remember anything you have to tell me.

            Victoria stared at the phone.

            Chloe was hovering now, reading the texts off the small screen. She glared at Victoria.

            "You better not be thinking about lying to her," she said.

            Victoria felt uneasy; There was menace in the tall woman's words.

            "I'm not," Victoria said, "I'm thinking."

            She began typing again. She sent the message.

            **Victoria:** I wasn't in the best shape on the night of that party. I don't want to misremember anything. I think Nathan might have had a copy of the video on his computer?

            A text from Max appeared in group chat.

            **Max:** He does. He had a tab of it open when I was investigating. We're going to Blackwell. I'll see if it is still open. It might be. Why do you need to see it Kate?

            "We're going to Blackwell?" Victoria asked aloud. She looked at Chloe.

            Chloe shrugged. "We're going to have to eventually," She said.

            Victoria sighed. _Why?_ She smashed her cigarette into the stoop, unsure of how she felt about the proposition. She stared at her phone waiting for Kate's response.

            Chloe grabbed Victoria's arm. Victoria flinched, unprepared for the sudden contact.

            "Run!" Chloe barked.

            Victoria was pulled from the stoop. She fumbled her phone. It clattered to the sidewalk with a hard _SLAP_. She looked around in confusion. An Arcadia Bay police cruiser was pulling into the Woodside Apartment parking lot. She froze.

            Chloe squeezed Victoria's hand tight. "Move bitch," She said. She jerked the petrified girl forward, forcing her to move. Chloe sprinted toward Fernando's car, Victoria in tow. The cruiser was heading directly for them. _They're going to spot us,_ Chloe thought. She yanked Victoria forward. She pushed the small of the girl's back hard, knocking Victoria forward. Chloe dove after her. Victoria went tumbling down in front of the Impala. They landed hard. Victoria let out a loud gasp as she landed on the concrete. Chloe landed on top of her.

            Chloe scrambled hard. The balls of her feet caught ground. She pushed against the ground, placing her hands against Victoria's chest. She pushed the smaller woman upward, against the front bumper of the Impala. Victoria began to cry out, her calf being scraped against the concrete. Chloe clamped her hand down over the girl's mouth.

            "Quiet!" Chloe hissed. She pulled herself close to Victoria.

            They were pressed together, against the bumper.

            Victoria's eyes were wide, filled with fear.

            Chloe pulled her hand away.

            Victoria remained absolutely silent, still.

            Chloe closed her eyes. She tried to focus. Victoria's breathing was heavy; her breath was pouring down Chloe's neck. _The tires. The sound of the tires._ Chloe found it. The cruiser was still approaching, slower now, the soft fizzing of the tires steadily increasing in volume and threat. The steady mechanical sound of an automatic window rolling down came to her.

            _Please don't stop,_ Chloe thought, begging.

            There was a soft squealing noise. The brakes had been applied. A slow gentle stop. Both girls found their stomachs tensing as the tires ended their fizzing. A parking brake was engaged.

            They heard the cracking of a car door followed by its subsequent slamming. Footsteps. Leather shoes falling against the pavement. They were swift, moving with intent, coming toward the front of the vehicle. There was a jingling noise. _Keys,_ Chloe thought, _No. Coins, in a pocket._

            Chloe brought her mouth directly against Victoria's ear. "Get ready to run," She whispered.

            Victoria nodded, a steely expression crossing her face.

            The footsteps made it as far as the driver side door.

            There was a ringing noise. The footsteps halted at the sudden noise.

            Victoria Chase's phone was ringing on the sidewalk, buzzing along the concrete.

            "What the hell?" It was a man's voice.

            The footsteps started again.

            Max appeared in the window of the apartment. Victoria spotted her. Max held her hand out. Her palm was perpendicular, flat, like a mime mimicking a wall. Victoria comprehended. _Stop,_ she thought.

            Victoria could feel Chloe's body tensing. _She's going to bolt,_ she thought. Victoria clamped her arms tight around her hiding companion, preventing her from moving. "Stay," she whispered.

            A police officer appeared before them, only feet away. Chloe and Victoria held their breath. His head was turned, looking for the source of the ringing. He spotted the phone.  The officer walked away, seemingly oblivous to their presence.

            The officer bent down and picked the phone up. He stared at it for several seconds, letting it ring in his hands.

            The front door of the apartment swung open. Kristen stepped out onto the front stoop. She let out a gasp, "Ahhh." She brought her hand to her chest.

            The officer looked taken aback.

            Kristen put her hand on her hip, shaking her head at the man. "You startled me really bad," She said, "You almost gave me a heart attack just now."

            "I'm sorry miss--" The officer said.

            Kristen interrupted his apology. "Hey!" she said, "That's my phone! I was just looking for that. I called it and I heard it ringing out here."

            The officer looked at the object in his hands. "Oh. . .yeah," He said, "It's funny. I was driving by. I thought I saw something so I stopped to check it out and then your phone just started ringing."

            "Well aren't you too sweet, " Kristen said. She hopped down off the stoop and walked up to the man, "Bringing my phone back to me like a gentleman." She stared up into the man's eyes, smiling, letting her own eyes widen.

            The officer couldn't help himself from grinning, caught in her bright green luminous eyes. He brought his hand to the back of his head, embarrassed. "I didn't do anything like that." He said, "I was just driving by."

            Kristen leaned forward, really examining the man. "Wow you're really young," She said, "I thought most cops were old and gross."

            "I'm 31," The officer said.

            "Oh," Kristen said, "I'm 25, we're not that far apart. . ."

            Max began waving from the apartment window. Victoria saw her. She nudged Chloe.

            Chloe turned. She understood what her partner intended. She pushed against the car, separating herself from Victoria. They stayed low to the ground, crawling. Chloe began making her way toward the passenger side of the vehicle. Victoria followed, trying to mimic her motion.

            "Name's Darren," The officer said, "What's your name?"

            "Oh, my name's Kristen," She said.

            "I've never seen you around before," Darren said, "What brings you to Arcadia Bay?"

            "The storm," She said, "I saw a chance to help some people and I thought I should come down here and volunteer."

            Kristen watched as Chloe and Victoria disappeared behind the far side of the vehicle.

            "Darren, I think I should probably see who was calling me, it was nice meeting you, thanks again for saving my phone."

            Kristen turned to walk away from the conversation.

            "Excuse me Miss," Darren called after her, "I need to see your photo identification."

            Kristen paused and looked back at the man. His friendly demeanor was gone. His round face was grim. His brows were furrowed.

            "Oh, um, sure," she said, "Was there a problem?"

            "Can I see your photo identification Ma'am?" he repeated, becoming more formal.

            Kristen reached into her pocket and pulled out a little stack of plastic cards. Credit cards, debit card, libray card, and photo ID. They were bound together with a rubber band. She pulled her ID from the packet and handed to the officer.

            Darren examined the ID for several seconds. He held it up looking from Kristen to the little photo and back.

            "Giroux," he remarked, "What is that? Canadian?"

            "Yeah," She said.

            "How do you know Jim?" he asked.

            Kristen felt herself breaking out into a cold sweat.

            "I'm a friend of the family," she said.

            Darren took a step forward. "Tell me," He said.

            "Well, the Giroux family and him go way back. . ." She said.

            There was a sudden rolling noise.

            "Your car!" Kristen cried out.

            Darren turned. The police cruiser had begun rolling away.

            "Damnit," The man cursed. He started to run.

            Kristen yelled, "My ID!"

            Darren stopped, he turned quickly and handed Kristen her ID. "I'm sorry," he said, "You're free to go."

            Kristen nodded. She watched as the man ran off towards rolling vehicle. Chloe and Victoria came sprinting to the front door of the apartment. David opened it as all three women piled into the door. He closed it promptly behind them.

            "That is Darren Wilkinson. He shouldn't even be here," David said. There was anger in his voice, "This is not good. He was with us on the night that we arrested Jefferson." He marched to the table and sat down. He began pouring over the map of Arcadia Bay.

            The girls all gathered in the center of the kitchen. Fernando closed the window. He lingered by it, watching the officer.

            Kristen had a huge grin on her face. "Did you two do that?" She asked, turning to Chloe and Victoria.

            Victoria turned, directing Kristen's gaze toward Chloe. "It was all her," She said.

            Chloe stuck her hands in her pockets, thumbs out, looking proud. "Years of kicking around with freaks and skateboarders has left me with a very specific set of skills," She said, "You can thank a kid named Justin for that when we get to Blackwell."

            Max stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Chloe. "You scared me," she said. "But I am pretty proud of your actual ninja skills."

            There was too much adrenaline in Chloe's system for restraint. She craned down and kissed Max on the lips.

            Max blushed. She laid her head down on Chloe's shoulder. She looked to Victoria.

            Victoria looked away with a smile on her face, her hand on her hip. "Well that makes sense," she said. She couldn't look Max in the eye, "It actually explains a lot."

            Max giggled.

            Chloe looked to David. He was engrossed in the map. He hadn't noticed the kiss. She rolled her eyes.

            Victoria looked at Kristen. "You're really the one we should be thanking," She said. He would of caught us right away if you didn't step out."

            "Oh," Kristen said, "I didn't do much, all I did was flirt with a guy, that's nothing special for me. The phone call was Max's idea."

            "I heard Chloe yell," Max said, "I didn't want anyone to get hurt so I figured something out."

            "He's still out there," Fernando said from his spot by the window.

            David stood up and went to the window to verify the statement. The police cruiser pulled up to the rear of Fernando's parked Impala. Darren stepped out of the cruiser. He had a little notebook in his hands. He bent down disappearing behind the vehicle.

            "He better not fuck with my car," Fernando said.

            Darren stood up after a few moments. He got back into the cruiser and drove off.

            "He took your license plate number," David said, "That or he placed a tracker on your car. I'll take a look in a bit when I'm more confident he won't circle back."

            "A tracker?" Fernando asked, "What is this, a movie?"

            "Movies are make-believe," Max said, "This is the real thing."

            Fernando sighed.

            "I take it you didn't get caught up all the way huh?" Chloe asked.

            Fernando shook his head. "You were only outside for ten minutes," he said.

            She went to the sink. She pushed the cardboard aside momentarily to pour herself a glass of water.

            Victoria nudged herself closer to Chloe. "Thank you," she said.

            Chloe turned to her. "Don't worry about it," She said.

            "I would of froze up if I was by myself," Victoria said, "All of you saved me."

            Tears started to pour down her face.


	21. Life is Still Strange - Ch. 11 - Part 3

"I would’ve frozen up if I was by myself," Victoria said, “You saved me. All of you."

Tears started to pour from Victoria’s eyes. Her face twisted in grief. She brought her right hand up, trying to somehow hide herself from sight. “I don’t deserve to be saved.” She said.

“Victoria don’t,” Max said. She stepped forward, putting her hand out, touching the girl’s shoulder. “Drink this,” she said. She handed Victoria the cup of water she had intended for herself.

            Victoria brought the glass to her lips and gulped. She set the container down on the sink.

            Kristen was frowning. “I’m sorry,” She said. She reached her hand out to touch Victoria’s other shoulder.

            Victoria screamed through her teeth, batting the hand away. She stomped her right foot on the ground. She balled her right hand into a fist and slamming downward hard into her own thigh. The action drew the attention of everyone in the room.

Kristen was bewildered. She took a step back. Chloe flinched at the loud noise. Both men remained quiet, looks of concern crossing their faces.

Victoria stared at the ground, embarrassed by her childish act. She continued to cry. She started sobbing.

Max squeezed the girl’s arm, trying to reassure her. “Let’s take a break. Come with me, we need to talk anyway.” She said. She put her hand on Victoria’s shoulder, asking the girl to let herself be guided toward the bedroom. Victoria allowed herself to be ushered.

“Kristen stay,” Max said, noticing her friend starting to follow. Kristen stopped. She pulled her hands inside her sweater, wringing them.

Max’s eyes fell to her partner. Chloe’s look was questioning. “Chloe come,” She said.

The blue hair girl walked into the bedroom with Max and Victoria. The door shut behind them.

Kristen stared at the door for several moments. She exhaled, turning to the men, unsure what to say.

Fernando spoke first, “You were saying, something terrible happened to her.” He was looking to David.

“Yeah…” David said, “I was just getting to that. His name was Mark Jefferson.”

Kristen and Fernando sat down at the kitchen table.

 

\-----------------

 

The bedroom of the apartment was small. Much smaller than the living room. There was a single bed stuffed into the corner of the room. The rest of the room looked like it contained boxes and storage containers. There was a single dresser and a small stand with a television on it. A cot was folded up, leaning against a closet door.

Victoria crossed to the bed and sat down. Max sat next to her. Chloe closed the door behind them. She flipped a switch on the wall and the room lit up. She reached up and pulled a chain to activate the ceiling fan above. The wooden blades begun whirring quietly, circulating the air through the room.

“Just breathe for a second,” Max said. She placed her hand on Victoria’s back, comforting her, rubbing gently.

There was a stack of blue plastic bins. Chloe opened one of them. It contained old clothing. She pulled the tote from the stack, placing it across from where Max and Victoria were seated. She sat down.

Victoria was taking in long breaths, pushing them out through her nostrils. The burst of tears that had come through in the kitchen were beginning to subside. She was shaky. Max could feel it.

Victoria wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “I don’t know why you saved me out there Chloe,” she said.

“Stop saying that dude,” Chloe said. She put her hand out, touching Victoria’s knees. “I would have saved anyone in this apartment.”

“I treated Rachel so unfairly,” Victoria said, “I used to see the two of you around. Rachel probably told you we hated each other. I thought you would hate me, but you saved me. Max, I thought you’d hate me too, after how I treated you. . . I deserve it. But you also saved me. Kate, she deserved to hate me the most, but she forgave me.”

“You’re just a teenager at an art school Victoria,” Max said, “You’re really easy to forgive, especially for someone as warmhearted as Kate Marsh.”

            Victoria wiped her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her black long-sleeved shirt. She frowned, “I used to justify my behavior by telling myself I was still a kid. It’s not a good excuse, I know better.”

Max looked away, hiding her smile. _Victoria might have changed as much as I did this weekend,_ she thought.

Victoria crossed her arms over her stomach. What she was about to confess was difficult.

            “I was so jealous of you Max,” Victoria said, “Mark liked your photography more than mine. I came to Blackwell just so I could meet him, learn from him.” Victoria was turning red now, “I was hoping he would mentor me in a way. I used to daydream about it. I followed him long before he was teaching at Blackwell. After the first few classes with him, the daydreams turned into fantasies, I wanted him. It was a childish crush, but I couldn’t help it, the way he talked to me, it made me feel exceptional, confident, _wanted_.”

            Max’s stomach began to ache, a sick feeling, her thoughts turning to her own fantasies she’d had about Mark Jefferson. She felt embarrassed somehow.

            “I wanted him all for myself,” Victoria continued, “But he liked your work more. Everyone in the class knew that he thought you were talented. I’ll take photos of anything I think is interesting, but you had a gimmick, selfies. I showed Mark my portfolio, but it was obvious, he liked your selfies better. Why? I asked myself that. Was it because they were pictures of you? Was it because he wanted to mentor you, maybe even fuck you? What did you have that I didn’t have? I couldn’t figure it out. It made me resent you.”

            She cast her eyes towards her feet, staring at run down cream colored carpet, continuing to talk. “It wasn’t just Mr. Jefferson. The way you talk to people Max, it’s different. You make everyone like you.” Tears had started cascading from Victoria’s eyes, riveting down her cheeks and falling from her chin. “You make it seem so effortless, like, you don’t even care what people think of you. I’m not like that, I’m not likeable. I have to _make_ people like me.”

            Victoria looked like she might be ill for brief moment. Her shoulders slumped; She put her hands to her face, overcome with tears again. She choked words through a large lump in her throat, “Max I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

            “Of course I can,” Max said. She turned to face her crying rival, drawing one knee up on to the bed, planting the other on the floor. She wrapped Victoria in her arms and pulled the upset girl against herself.

            Victoria was startled at first. The hug was warm, comforting, unexpected. Victoria began sobbing. She buried her face into Max’s shoulder, squeezing the thin girl tight in her arms.

            Max’s eyes were starting to tear up, “It’s not effortless for me. I do care about what people think.” _At least I did, until last week._

            Chloe was unsure what to do. Her elbows were resting on her knees; Her hands were on top of her beanied head.

After a few minutes Chloe stood. Victoria’s crying had mostly stopped. Chloe opened the container she was sitting on and produced an old green sweatshirt. She handed the sweatshirt to Victoria, “Wipe your eyes dude.”

            Victoria sighed, removing herself from Max’s arms. She took the piece of old clothing. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

            Max sat hip to hip with Victoria on the bed. She laid her head on Victoria’s shoulder.

            “I want to be a better person,” Victoria mumbled, eyes still downcast.

            Chloe pulled the tote closer to the bed and sat down. “You’re off to a decent start already,” Chloe said, “You know what you were doing was wrong. Some people can’t even own up to their shit.”

            “Chloe’s right,” Max said, “Own your mistakes. Wear them on your sleeve. Tell yourself you fucked up and then tell yourself it’s okay that you fucked up. You’re going to try and make amends right? You’re going to try and change?”

            “Yes.” Victoria nodded.

            Max continued, “That’s all you can do then. You didn’t do anything so terrible it can’t be undone.”

_Unlike me,_ Max thought.

She continued speaking, “I’m okay Victoria, Kate’s okay, and you’re going to be okay too.”

“You’ll help me?”, Victoria asked, “You’ll help me be a better person?”

“I will,” Max said, “I promise.”


	22. Life is Still Strange - Chapter 11 - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another smaller sized chunk of writing. I start working a regular schedule tomorrow. Hopefully I can start pushing out writing at a more consistent pace. I'm aiming for 1k words a day ^_^

Victoria spoke, “Alcoholics have to make amends. So should I.”

            Max sighed. She squeezed Victoria’s torso, “Not with me. We’re square okay?”

            Victoria cast her eyes towards her feet. “We’re not square Max,” She said, “But okay Max. Kate though. . . I told her this morning I was sorry. I need to do more. I basically ruined her life.”

            “You do.” Max said.

            Chloe cleared her throat. “Hey I’m glad you are having a revelation or whatever,” She said, “But maybe you could make amends some other time when we aren’t. . . I dunno. . . investigating? Whatever the fuck we’re doing here…”

            “It’s important Chloe. . .” Max said. Her eyes narrowed at her partner, disappointed.

            Chloe felt somewhat shamed by Max’s glare. “. . . Fine,” She said.

            Victoria looked to Chloe, “Rachel,” She said.

            Chloe quieted, turning from Max. She held her eyes on Victoria, waiting for more words.

Victoria fell silent at an awful realization. Her eyes began tearing up. She spoke, “I’ll never be able to make things right with her…”

            Chloe looked to the left, not wanting to absorb Victoria’s grief. She was looking at an old photograph. A young couple. She began wringing her palms on her jeans idly.

            Max stood, crossing from the bed to the container Chloe was sitting on. Max sat. She took Chloe’s right hand in both of her own. She squeezed, running her thumb along the back of Chloe’s hand.

            Chloe let out a long breath. She squeezed tight, letting Max know she was okay.

            “You know,” Chloe said, turning back to Victoria, “Rachel never mentioned what you two fought about. You said that you thought she told me. She didn’t, even though I asked her. She never talked about Blackwell much. She said she hated you, but that was about it.”

            “You two were. . .together?” Victoria asked, wiping her eyes on the shirt again.

            “Yes,” Chloe said.

            Victoria was quiet.

Max could sense indecision.

            “Tell us everything,” Max said.

            Victoria looked grave. “Okay,” she said, “Rachel and I didn’t get along from the start.” Victoria looked up, trying to recall something, “. . . It was Nathan that first introduced me to her. He brought her to the vortex club one afternoon. Everyone loved her. Courtney wanted to let her in the vortex after only one day hanging with us. It was the same jealously I felt about you Max but ten times worse. Rachel was everything you were, honest, humble, herself. The scary thing is she was everything I was too. She was popular, talented, tapped into the art scene. She was superior to me in every way, and it didn’t seem like she was even trying. She had Jefferson’s eye just like you did too. It was driving me crazy. I’m so fucking petty.”

            Victoria continued to speak, “Then the rumors started. . .”

            “What rumors?” Chloe asked, “About Rachel? About her being gay?”

            “No,” Victoria said. She looked grim.

            Max knew what Victoria was referencing. Her stomach hurt. She had heard the rumor last week. _Who told me that?_ she thought, _I don’t remember._

            Victoria said the words carefully, afraid of Chloe’s reaction, “There was a rumor that Rachel was sleeping with Mr. Jefferson.”

            There was silence. Only the quiet whirring of the wooden fan blades above could be heard. Had they grown louder?

            Chloe broke the silence with a short burst of air from her nose. “That’s a stupid fucking rumor,” She said, shrugging the words away.

            Victoria looked to Max. Chloe followed her gaze. Max frowned at her partner.

            “No,” Chloe said. Her words were faster now, “That’s horseshit. That doesn’t make any sense.”

            “Chloe. . .” Max started.

            “No Max!” Chloe interrupted. She felt flushed. She stood. Her voice had gained in volume now, “I know what you’re going to say.”

            Max stood, awkwardly putting left hand on the crook of her right elbow. Max didn’t know what to say.

            “Frank was one thing,” Chloe said, “We were close to Frank, he was our friend. That makes sense. I can handle that, even if it hurts. But there’s no way Rachel slept with that fucker Jefferson.”

            Max stepped forward. She reached for Chloe’s hand. Chloe pulled away.

            “Don’t,” Chloe said. She glared, “You didn’t even know Rachel Max. Don’t you dare. . .”

            “Stop!” Max snapped. She was more confident now, “Listen to me.”

            Chloe was quiet. She crossed her arms, refusing to look at Max.

            Max spoke, “I believe you. Anything to do with Rachel, I trust you Chloe. You’re right. I didn’t know her. You knew her better than anyone else.”

            “Chloe look at me,” Max demanded. Chloe complied. She looked Max in the eye.

            Max continued to speak, “If you tell me that Rachel didn’t have sex with Jefferson I will believe you, but I want you to think about it for a moment. It could be important Chloe.”

            Chloe was breathing heavy, her hands still cupping the elbows of the opposite arm. She looked toward the ground and closed her eyes. Victoria and Max waited. It was apparent the tall woman was considering things.

            “I don’t know,” Chloe said.

            Victoria looked as if she was going to speak.

            “I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!” Chloe screamed. She wound back her foot and kicked the container of clothes they had been sitting on. The object flew into the closet door making a loud clatter. The lid flew off, spilling several pieces of clothing across the room. She turned to Victoria.

For a moment Max believed Chloe would strike the short haired girl.

            “Fuck you!” Chloe yelled. She turned and made for the door quickly.

            Max grabbed for her, “Chloe wait”

            Chloe pushed Max’s shoulder, preventing the girl from grabbing her.

            The door opened. Fernando was standing in the door way.

            “What was that noise?” He asked. He could see tears forming in Chloe’s eyes. He tried to touch her shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Chloe belted. She pushed her way past him, through the kitchen. David was standing, looking alert. Chloe glared at him and walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

            Fernando turned to look at Max, his eyes wide and questioning.

            Max shrugged. She sat down on the bed next to Victoria. She let out a long breath, trying to rid herself of some portion of her stress.

            “I’m sorry Max,” Victoria said.

            “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Max said, “I heard that rumor too.”

            “I wouldn’t have brought it up,” Victoria said, “But I did something terrible. . .”

            Victoria’s eyes went from Max to Fernando and back. Her unease was apparent.

            Fernando understood. “I, uh, I’ll step out,” he said. Fernando closed the door as he left the doorway.

            “Ok,” Max said, “I’m a little scared about what you might tell me.”

            “I blackmailed Rachel,” Victoria said.

            “Victoria. . .”

            Victoria spoke, “I told her to stay away from Jefferson and Nathan. I threatened her, manipulated her. I said that I knew about her and Mark. I said I had photos. I was lying. I didn’t have photos. I didn’t have proof. All I had was jealousy.”

            “Jesus Christ Victoria,” Max said. She breath deep into her lungs, unable to fully look at the girl. _Is this why Rachel wanted to leave Arcadia?_

            Victoria laid back across the bed. She brought her hands to her head. “It’s my fault she’s dead,” she said. Tears had started pouring down her face again, “I think I pushed her right into Jefferson’s arms. I got her killed.”

            “You don’t know that,” Max said.

            “It has to be true,” Victoria said.

            There was pause in the conversation, both women listening to the ceiling blades whirling above, lost in thought.

            “You can’t tell Chloe that,” Max said, “Not yet at least. We need to know the truth. We need to learn everything about Rachel once and for all. I have to talk to Chloe.” She stood from the bed. She made towards the door.

            “. . . Max,” Victoria called, “Am I a monster?”

            Max paused to turn back and look at her rival. “No,” She said. She stared at the blonde girl for several seconds, “. . . Maybe.”


	23. Cancellation

Tried to sit down 3 times this week to write. Can't do it anymore, feels like work.

Stephen King said you have 3 months to get a book done before it starts to grind

Sounds accurate in retrospect.

Thanks for reading whie I was still writing 3

Below are some headcanons or planned ideas to where things were going.

1\. Stella is the hooded figure that kills Sean Prescott.

The theory that Stella was evil was floated around after episode 4 and I was always

fully on board with that. I was planning to have her be a disciple of Jefferson that followed

from the east coast. She was going to have time powers similar to Max.

(Awoken by her seeing him shot possibly.) At some point they

were destined to have a time freezing / rewinding battle. (Possibly during a car chase.)

Both her and Max's power would be expanded and fleshed out to include some nasty things you could do to a person involving gravity.

2\. Vivian Prescott, Walker Williams, and Mark Jefferson knew eachother in college.

The Artist, The Photographer, The Scientist, and The Writer.

Four killers that worked together on the east coast during their college years.

Each for a different purpose and goal. "The Writer" would not have been in the story

but he would have been a reference to Joe Carroll from "The following." Vivian and Mark had a thing.

3\. Rachel Amber's room.

What I would have written next. Chloe would need to know why Rachel did the things she did.

Max and Chloe go to Rachel's home and meet her father. He is strange and off-putting. They explore her room and find clues to her actions. They find clues about Pan estates. Chloe finds a picture of her and Rachel. When Max comforts Chloe by rubbing her shoulder Chloe is sent into the past. She photo jumps into the photo of her and Rachel. Chloe struggles with wether she should change the past or not. She talks in depth with Rachel confirming that Rachel was indeed in love with her. Chloe decides not to change the past, fearing for Max and her own safety.

They discover Rachel's mother was killed by the storm. They find her decaying body. Rachel's father has been ignoring the decaying body. He has become insane. He attacks them, trying to kill Chloe.

4\. The Tobanga and Blackwell

At some point Madsen would be arrested. The kids would end up returning to blackwell eventually. The football field is muddy and wet, covered in temporary tent housing. It feels more like a refugee camp than a school. Courtney Wagner has stepped up in a big way. She is an unofficial leader of the students. They are helping the refugees.

Brooke confronts Max about the night of the storm. "Where were you?!" "I tried to make Warren stay! He said he needed to help you!" "He died because of you!" "Where were you Max?!" Brooke would hold up the picture of Max from warren's locker. Max would break at this. She would run from a crowd of school friends and fernando and kristen. Chloe would chase after her. Fernando and Kristen would stop the blackwellers from following.

Max and Chloe would fight. In the dorm hallway. Max would want to use the photo of herself to try and change everything. Chloe would disagree viciously. The fight would come to blows. Chloe would say some biting shit. "I gave you the chance to kill me once. I'm not giving you another chance!" "Rachel isn't important enough to change time for but your little science boyfriend is? Fuck that!"

The fight would end with Chloe's hands around Max's neck. "i should kill you. You're too dangerous. I'd be a hero. I'd save myself, I'd save Seattle!" Max would just go limp in Chloe's grip. "Do it. You're right. Kill me."

They would break down at this point at how fucked their relationship really is.

Several people get laid at blackwell XD There is make-up max and chloe sex. There is grungy shower fernando and kristen sex.

The tobanga is examined and there is no bonus visions for Kristen. They chop the tobanga down or a tree falls on it or something. The core of the tobanga is a strange metal.

5\. Pan estates

The ultimate reveal is that pan estates was purchased because it sits atop a strange and rare type of metal. A new element or possibly of Alien origin it is a mystery. Walker Williams, Vivian Prescott, and Mark Jefferson were also using pan estates to do their sick death art shit / death science sacrifice whatever they were into. Rachel and Nathan were more involved but still fairly innocent kids. Stella was way less innocent and involved. Jefferson went off script.

The tornado (vortex) that destroyed arcadia bay was created by the strange gravitational powers of the metal.(yay max is absolved of guilt partially)

Walker Williams' new monitoring equipment being installed in seattle (what max's dad is working on unknowingly) is what will upend / destroy the city.

City is destroyed in final conflict. Max escapes to the 'end of time' meets a future version of herself that is a weird almost godlike creature. End of time is where all time strands, the ones max has been manipulating, converge. (Lots of Stephen King ass shit at the 'end of time') (Think 'The Turtle' and weird psychic vampire spiders.) (Max is sad at seeing a giant shadow hulk monster. She realizes part of the beast is Jefferson, or that Jefferson nwas somehow connected to the dark monster.)

Don't know the exact ending but it ends well. Always happy ending. Inserted back into time to before events of LiS game to fix everything. Use these strands, craft your own reality sort of deal.

6\. KATE.

almost forgot, writing all this haphazard as hell.

Kate's mom ends up being the worst person ever. Her aunt and her mother humiliate her publically in church. Kate ends up running away because of her mom's shit combined with wanting to meet the person who is mysteriously texting her. The person texting her is Stella pretending to be a boy, possibly pretending to be Nathan.

Kate goes on a mini journey back to Arcadia Bay. She meets a bunch of strange people on the way, stopping by the blue catfish diner. (She doesn't meet her cousin tho. Jessica barely misses her.) She is saved from horny truckers by the boy who took Chloe's virginity. The red-haired boy with neck tattoo of a gecko named tommy. He gives her a ride for a while saying he is heading to arcadia to attend the funeral of an old friend of his. (Frank Bowers)

Kate, Fernando, and Kristen were 100% going to get caught up in a weird love triangle. Kate X Fernando sex scene 100%

That was some of the predetermined things that were going to happen. Nikolai would need to be dealt with. David Madsen might die a heroic / sad death. :/ Had lots of small ideas about the gates brothers. 100% everyone was going back to the seagate motel eventually XD

Sorry it took so long for me to officially cancel this. The next thing I write probably won't be FanFiction. Thank you for reading and commenting. 3


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